Category Archives: nature

Speechless with soil, and blind.

February 20, 2025nature, poetryearthworms, Harry Martinson, Oxalis pes-caprae, sourgrassGretchenJoanna

I noticed this week that the oxalis I call sourgrass is sprouting up, already a foot tall and heavy with rain, in various places in the garden. I don’t think it is blooming yet, but as I am reminded by looking at my old photo at the bottom here, it does begin its celebrating while the fruit trees are still dark and bare. So it could happen soon. The Iceland poppies are already showy.

Today was mostly drizzly, but eventually the clouds gathered into distinct groups and let the sun shine through; they stood off to the sides looking majestic. Turning our gaze in the other direction, let’s give a thought to the “farmworkers down under,” who may slow down in the winter, but they continue making their contribution to the lovely world, God bless them.

THE EARTHWORM

Who really respects the earthworm,
the farmworker far under the grass in the soil.
He keeps the earth always changing.
He works entirely full of soil,
speechless with soil, and blind.

He is the underneath farmer, the underground one,
where the fields are getting on their harvest clothes.
Who really respects him,
this deep and calm earth-worker,
this deathless, gray, tiny farmer in the planet’s soil.

-Harry Martinson

And then my feet know it.

February 12, 2025nature, poetryMary Oliver, Paul LecomteGretchenJoanna

BOUNDARIES

There is a place where the town ends
and the fields begin.
It’s not marked but the feet know it,
also the heart, that is longing for refreshment
and, equally, for repose.

Someday we’ll live in the sky.
Meanwhile, the house of our lives is the world.
The fields, the ponds, the birds.
The thick black oaks — surely they are the
children of God.
The feistiness among the tiger lilies,
the hedges of runaway honeysuckle, that no one owns.

Where is it? I ask, and then
my feet know it.

One jump, and I’m home.

-Mary Oliver

A branch of eucalyptus.

February 5, 2025nature, treescreek, eucalyptus, neighborhood, walkingGretchenJoanna

Today we had a sunny surprise of a break between storms, so that I could take a walk under blue skies. The rain has flooded the creek paths in my neighborhood where people like to run with their dogs, a few feet lower down than the paved path I was on; this is not uncommon in the winter season, and the creeks are maintained every couple of years to make sure that the heavier flows rushing down from the hills don’t encroach on the main paths.

I was admiring the giant eucalyptus trees along the way when I noticed a small branch from one blown down at the edge of the path. It was of a type with extra-slender leaves, and so freshly washed, I decided to bring it home where I could keep enjoying it for a while. Here are the trees from which it fell, that I craned my neck to see:

For years I’ve been planning to write a long and thorough article about the history of eucalyptus trees in California and the controversy around them, but I never get that much leisure time. I have mentioned them several times, though, over the years.

I heard that the city is planning to repave this path that has some serious bumps where tree roots have pushed it up, and that that is why they are planning to cut some big ones. I hope it’s not too many! They have been my friends for thirty-five years ❤