Taking It All In

This weeping cherry tree (prunus pendula) is just outside the kitchen window and I've taken to calling it the tree of tits.  I was tempted to use that as the title for this post, just to see how many hits I might get from people thinking it was an actual tree of tits, breasts that is. I got about triple the normal number of hits per post for Foxey a few months ago. It's crazy isn't it?  Do you know that something like 40% of men who are in relationships view on-line pornography on a regular basis?  Sad.

But this is not a breast tree, no, it is a bird tree.  When I gaze out the window each morning, washing the coffee pot, doing my morning thing, there are on average 10-12 birds, mainly titmice but also juncos and chickadees, sitting in the branches of this tree.  It's hard to tell in the picture above, but look here and you can see three juncos.  I guess they feel safe among the curving branches.

This tree has grown miraculously fast, we planted it three years ago and it has about tripled in size, I'm hoping it is getting to the height it will remain and then just keep weeping and getting more interesting shapes and curvy branches, its got a beautiful architecture, but I don't want it to grow up so tall that it blocks our view of the rest of the garden, we'll just have to see what happens, its grown faster than any tree we have ever planted.

The weather is loopy, one day cold and rainy, the next warm and sunny, then somewhere in between.

Yesterday was a warm sunny one.  I went for a long walk just soaking up the sunshine and checking out the woods. The creeks are way up thanks to much rain.  The first trout lily flowers were showing their yellow and dusky pink petals down in the warmest most protected stream bottoms.  I sat on the bridge over Tilley's Branch for a long while, listening to the sound of the water flowing, watching the foam and bubbles, small and large, flowing by, merging together, piling up against a jutting out rock or stick, circling together in small eddies, small bubbles swirling round and coming together to form a larger one in the center that would eventually pop and then the process begin again.  Little blobs of foam rushing over the tiny falls.  The play of light, on the rocky, mossy creek bottom and also, reflecting up and dancing on the stream bank and overhanging tree branches. 

How lovely it was to sit at length, just taking it all in, trying the whole time to squash the feeling down under that I should be moving, I should be getting back, I should be doing chores, I should be sitting at the computer writing, I should, I should, I should... ad infinitum, and instead, no I should stop shoulding on myself and just be, there, with the water and the light, absorbing the sunshine, freeing my soul up into the clear blue sky above, climbing the heights just like the tree tops, to hell with the chores, with the garden, the firework, the cooking, the cleaning, "TAKE A BREAK!!" my spirit was shouting out from deep down inside me, as I forced myself to sit there, still just a little longer, just a few more minutes, before jumping up to walk fast up the trail, up the mountain and down again, trying to get my heart rate up, make it exercise, go fast, but then I miss what's under my feet, under my nose, the birds flying above, the sound of the wind.

It is an impossible push and pull, this life, the musts and the shoulds constantly bumping up against the wants and needs.  All I can do is try and enjoy some piece of every day and make the most of every minute I guess, be Zen, be mindful, enjoy the dish washing and the wood hauling with as much pleasure and purpose as I do the woods walking and eating, make it all part of a practice of living life fully and thoughtfully.  Oh that sounds so preachy and highfalutin, but I believe it is something to strive for.