Fishermen and Flowers

My husband, Don, loves to fish. He tells me that every time he makes a cast he anticipates finding a fish on the end of his line. On the rare occasions when I go with him, I never expect to hook a fish, which may have something to do with why I never catch any. It's possible that we all have some of that fisherman's optimism, just in different arenas. I have friends who, at every mealtime, assume they will whip up something delicious to eat, and every day, gourmet meals appear on their table. Go figure.

When I walk in the woods, I always presume that I'll find something special, and I'm never disappointed. It may be a whiff of verbena or light playing on the trees. Sometimes it's the 4-note song of the Chickadee or the melody of the stream, and I carry the memory of the music back home with me.

This spring has been exceptionally wet and the lake has filled the valley below us. After a rain, seasonal creeks gurgle in every hollow, and waterfalls tumble over rock ledges.

There were treasures in the woods today. A tiny orange mushroom stopped me in my tracks like a crossing guard. Brilliant Fire Pinks are blooming on the rocky slopes, their sticky stems ready to ensnare small insects that venture by.

Down near the lake, a Trillium is just ready to bloom, and I hope to be there when it happens. Trilliums are best enjoyed in the wild. They are fragile flowers and picking them may stunt their growth for years. I've noted the location so I can find it again. Not that I don't trust you all, but I'm not about to divulge my secret spot.

Maybe I have more in common with fishermen than I thought.

In Good Hands

One morning last week, just before dawn, we watched two yearling white-tailed deer play tag around the pond. They ran like the wind, their hooves scarcely touching the ground as they leaped in the air and splashed through the water. Once in a while, Bitsy (our name for the littlest female) would stop to catch her breath, but she'd sprint ahead as soon as Sundance (the youngest male) started to catch up. It was an expression of pure joy, and I could relate. I love spring.

A Carolina wren has taken up housekeeping in the creel on our front porch, just far enough from the phoebe's nest by the front door to avoid collisions. Now the wrens are busy bringing bugs back to their babies.

It's dark out this morning, and dogwood bracts on the coffee table appear to be floating in mid-air. Redbuds sparkle on the dining room table and wildflowers overflow small vases in the kitchen. Outside, one has to tiptoe to avoid stepping on a wildflower. 

These flora and fauna don't know that our country is in crisis. While everything around us is changing, a Rue Anemone pushes its way out of the earth and bobs in the breeze, right on schedule. It's a good reminder that their Maker and ours is still holding the world in His hands. We can sleep well. He is awake.

Ten Reasons to Love the Ozarks in the Early Spring

1. Harbinger of Spring

2. Toothwort

3. Redbud

4. Rue Anemone

5. Henbit

6.  Johnny-Jump-Up

7. Violet Wood Sorrel

8. Hickory

9. Dogwood

10. Bird's foot violet

Linking with: 

Weekly Top Shot

Macro Monday

Queen Anne's Lace

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I've recently discovered a community of artists who share their inspiration.

  

On Tuesdays, they have a textured photo blog party.  Doesn't that sound like fun? 

Click on the icon, if you like; 

I'm hoping to join in with this image of wild Queen Anne's Lace 

and words of wisdom from 1 Corinthians 13.


Textures used:

Kim Klassen's Aurora and Pourvous

Rare Beauty

Even now, in the heat of the summer, 

wild Queen Anne's Lace blooms along the roadside,

its delicate pattern perfectly suited to its name. 

There is a place near here, where, year after year, a pink one blooms,

and every year I discover it again, as if it were the rarest pearl. 

If the meadow was filled with pink Queen Anne's Lace, 

and there was only one white one, 

wouldn't that be the one we'd treasure?

Ozark Spring Wildflowers

Toothwort

Johnny-Jump-Up

Bird's Foot Violet

Spring Beauty

After what seemed like a long winter, a wash of green is flowing over the landscape from the ground up. The first wildflowers showed up last month, the delicate Harbinger of Spring, then one Toothwart in its customary spot by the big oak tree on the forest edge. The next day it had disappeared, probably into the stomach of a hungry rabbit. 

After a few days of futile search, I found two more on the hillside above the pond, followed by Rue Anemone, and soon a whole patch of them were bobbing in the breeze. Now, just a month after the first sightings, new blossoms appear every day in rapid succession, their names as colorful as they are: Small Bluets, Johnny-Jump-Up, Bird's Foot Violet, Spring Beauty, Buttercups, Wild Sweet William, and the ubiquitous Dandelion.

Long ago, God made a promise to Noah, and He hasn't forgotten it:

"As long as the earth endures,

seedtime and harvest, cold and heat,

summer and winter, 

day and night

will never cease."

Genesis 8:22