Symbiosis and Serendipity

We should be spending much more time studying the natural world – not just what we can see above ground but what goes on underground. The miracles that take place as plants and trees relate to each other and support each other have lessons for us all.

I have been reading Robert Macfarlane’s inspiring book Underland. This, like so much of his writing is not just factual and fascinating but beautifully written too. He referred to a book by Robin Wall Kimmerer – Braiding Sweetgrass – not only has the author an unusual name but the book had an intriguing title. I decided to look up more information about both on the web. Then later in the day, I was reading Jan Fortune’s blog and there, just a minute or so into reading it, I came across a quotation from the same book. When this sort of thing happens, it seems that I am getting the message loud and clear ‘This is a book that you should be reading!’As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, Robin Wall Kimmerer embraces the notion that plants and animals are our oldest teachers.

Serendipity – two references to the same author within hours. I intend to get a copy of her book … there is something more to learn here.

 

Advertisement

Unexpected

Sometimes when out walking I come across something quirky, something completely unexpected that makes me smile.

This, I had to share

I find gardening very therapeutic and would hate to have to live somewhere without a garden (even though there are times when I find that the weeds are flourishing far too well). This collection of plant boots is a brilliant example of someone’s creative thinking. I love it!

If in the future, I ever find myself without a garden (heaven forbid) then I’ll remember this row of plant boots.

Some time ago I wrote a poem entitled Boots. This seems as good a place as any to post it – even though it’s time I re-worked it …

Boots

Put on your boots, leave your desk.

Let’s go for a walk.

We’ll listen to music of the sky

From swallows circling Drumrae,

or the blackbird high in the oak.

 

Put on your boots, leave the phone.

Let’s go for a walk.

We’ll smell the honey scent of bluebells,

the May blossom drifts in the hedge.

Even taste the sorrel’s sharp leaves.

 

Put on your boots, leave the post.

Let’s go for a walk.

We’ll wander down lanes while they’re quiet,

count new calves in Callum’s field,

watch parent rooks mobbing buzzards.

 

Put on your boots, leave your books.

Let’s go for a walk.

We’ll remember some flowers by name,

Stitchwort, Sweet Cicely, Red Campion,

while the wind paints fields like Van Gogh.

 

Put on your boots.