Then summer fades and passes and October comes.
We’ll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness,
swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure.
–Thomas Wolfe
in the woods // damp
The salamanders,
like tiny birds, locked into formation,
fly down into the endless mysteries
of the transforming water,
and how could anyone believe
that anything in this world
is only what it appears to be —
— from “What Is It?” Mary Oliver
in the woods // spring
The wood is decked in light green leaf.
The swallow twitters in delight.
The lonely vine sheds joyous tears
Of interwoven dew and light.
— from “Spring” by Ilia Chavchavadze
Today was the first time I’ve been out in the woods since I tried to make a go of it about a month ago (I had to turn back last time because it was just too muddy). Words, and even these pictures, cannot truly convey the way in which the woods is simply aglow with new green leaves. After I dropped Zane off at preschool, I decided to take a walk around the pond by myself. I am so glad that I did because it was exactly the right moment in time to see the wakerobins,Trillium, in bloom — they are the gorgeous three-petaled red flowers below. My goodness, they are beautiful! (But, don’t pick them because picking even parts of the plant can kill it, and in some places picking them is illegal.) I also saw a rose-breasted grosbeak, some trout lillies,Erythronium, and some wild oats,Uvularia sessilifolia. On top of all of that, the morning light was just amazing. The whole experience made me want to sing the Doxology at the top of my lungs, though the local wildlife might have found that a bit overwhelming so I just hummed it quietly to myself instead.
in the woods // nothing gold can stay
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
— Robert Frost
I know this poem might feel a little cliché to some people, but it’s always been one of my favorites. For Christmas in 1998 (I was 17) my grandmother gave me a beautiful, hardcover anthology of Frost’s poetry, ordered thematically by the seasons of the year and accompanied by beautiful photographs of the natural world; it is one of my most beloved possessions. I have always loved poetry, but I find that with each year of my life it becomes more and more meaningful to me. And, now I find myself drawn to the woods to make my own photographs, my own homage to the beauty of the natural world. Thank you, Gram, for that long-ago gift that is still giving me pleasure and inspiring me all of these many years later.
in the woods // last day of summer
Happy we who can bask in this warm September sun, which illumines all creatures, as well when they rest as when they toil, not without a feeling of gratitude…
— Henry David Thoreau, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers (1849)
The title of this post seems a little misleading, given the preponderance of colorful foliage herein. But, today it is still (technically) “summer.” Though I’m not entirely despairing, I do feel a little bit as if I’m not quite ready to let it go. The weather was so mild this year, it almost feels as if we were cheated out of a proper summer; I said almost, okay? So, despite his having a nasty cold virus, Zane and I took a little walk in the woods just to revel in summer’s last moments. (I think we might have made contact with some poison ivy, so that sours the whole thing a bit, but we’ll have to wait and see if either of us have a reaction.)
