Flowers wild or exotic.

other gardens, wildflowers, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
mystery plant

Pippin drove the younger children and me to the same botanical garden we visited two years ago, but several weeks earlier in the spring. Before looking at the plants in the garden itself, we briefly explored an area of the larger park down by the Sacramento River, which is roaring through its narrow channel in the town of Dunsmuir.

On trees growing at the river’s edge, Ivy found dozens of exoskeletons that Seek tells us are of the California Giant Stonefly. They were certainly the giantest fly of any kind I’ve ever seen. Pippin thinks the flies exited these skins last year, because it’s too early in this spring for it to have happened recently.

California Giant Stonefly

We saw poison oak and regular oak, and several wildflowers along the riverside path, including annual honesty, which is in the mustard family. And nearby, last year’s seed pod, now a faded moon.

Lunaria annua – Annual Honesty

Up the hill, rhododendrons!

Blaney’s Blue Rhododendron

Dogwoods layered with Japanese maples and rhododendrons make a beautiful scene.

The big lawn around which the garden is arranged is a setting for recreational events, and there were lots of poles and wires and big boxes of electrical equipment that interfered with our photography, but not with our appreciation of the display of plants, which included various other shrubs native to the Far East, like this Japanese Andromeda (Pieris japonica):

Japanese Andromeda

The other favorite exotic was the Dove Tree, or Handkerchief Tree (Davidia involucrata), native to China:

Behind the dogwoods and smaller trees, tall conifers form a backdrop.

Dogwood

If there had not been a chill breeze blowing up from the river, I might have plopped myself down on that lawn to gaze at dogwood trees for a half hour. I forget about their existence for years at a time, and then am blown away all over again by their beauty. There are at least eight species of dogwoods to enjoy there. From the garden’s website:

Cornus nuttallii, Mountain or Pacific Dogwood, is the emblematic tree of the City of Dunsmuir and the Dunsmuir Botanical Gardens. They are native to the Gardens and the surrounding area. What appear to be flower petals are actually bracts – petal-like modified leaves. The (mostly) inconspicuous true flowers are ringed by four to eight of the showy, white bracts. In fall as the flower ovaries develop and set buds, they turn a bright yellow with red seeds.

Mountain Dogwood

At last, we did have to leave.
And I will say good-bye for now
with the simple Western Starflower:

Western Starflower

The cutest pine trees.

family, nature, wildflowers, work, , , ,

It’s a rainy afternoon at Pippin’s, where I am now, having journeyed up the state and into the mountains a couple of days ago.

The Professor has been waiting for wet weather in which to set fire to his burn pile, which has grown larger than ever with the addition of large tree limbs broken in the snow.

I was able to help Ivy and Jamie a tiny bit by forking clumps of wet leaves into carts, from a leaf pile across the yard, for them to haul to the fire.

Ivy had just pulled a batch of popovers out of the oven when their dad called all the children out to help.

Yesterday I took two walks, first with Jamie and later with Scout. The forest floor is covered with pine cones, and also with cute sprouts of Ponderosa pine, each topped with the seed or seed case, presumably from which it sprouted.

Ivy peeled a few of them for me to eat, and one looked and tasted something like a commercial pine nut.

The pink and white flowered manzanitas are in bloom all around, and the Squaw Carpet lovely in violet.

Pippin drove a few of us even farther north to do another fun thing in the rain, but I will come back later to tell you about that. Completing a post on my phone is a challenge, and I want to publish this one before something goes wrong!

O come and tell me of the when.

poetry,

KNOW’ST THOU THE WAY?

O littel bird! know’st thou the way
Which is unknown to me?
How swift thou flewest at break of day,
With heart all full of glee!

Around thy neck my message tied,
Full of my longing mind;
Thy speed the sailor has outvied,
Thou waitest for no wind.

No sweet reply can I get now;
No word to ease my pain;
I know not when, I know not how,
Or if we meet again.

O might that be, what gladness then!
I’d sing, sweet bird, like thee;
O come and tell me of the when
That happy time shall be.

-Theodor Kjerulf (1825 – 1888) Norway

Mikhail Olennikov, Rest Under the Bird Cherry

The Bright Monday that was…

food and cooking, Holy Week, Pascha,

According to liturgical time, Bright Monday is already past, and we are entering Bright Tuesday of this blessed week. I’m afraid I’m not readjusted to plain time yet, or to the way much of the world has merely switched from the weekend to weekday, or from Easter to common days. The superabundance of life and joy that descends on us at Pascha is too much for a few hours or even a few days to contain. So when I saw a call coming in on my phone from my doctor, my first thought was, Why would anyone be calling me today?? I didn’t pick up.

After Palm Sunday this year I was home for the next few days of Holy Week, but from Thursday evening until Sunday evening I went to church every day. Normally I can’t manage that with my limited mental and physical resources, but Holy Week is not Normal, and it didn’t feel right to be home when so much was happening elsewhere. I wish I didn’t have to miss any of the multitude of grace-filled services, each with its unique flavor, and particular gifts that are given only once a year to those present to imbibe and absorb them. Through all the senses and by means of our minds, as we hear the deep theology of our salvation, we are mystically brought into the presence of Christ — as He talks at length to His disciples in the upper room, prays in Gethsemane, is betrayed, mocked, and nailed to the cross.

At the Holy Saturday services we sing about the Harrowing of Hell. Both of the pictures above are from Matins of Holy Saturday, which is Friday evening. On Saturday, after the Vesperal Liturgy midday, many people are bustling about the church tidying up and decorating in preparation for the Paschal service.

At the same time other parishioners take turns reading the Acts of the Apostles beginning from the end of Saturday’s Liturgy all the way until the beginning of the service at 11:30 p.m.

By the time we get to Saturday night we are prepared to exult finally, at midnight, to shout, “Christ is risen!” and, “Indeed He is risen!” and with all our being to sing until we are hoarse the many glorious hymns of Paschal Matins, about Christ’s conquering of death. As the gates of Hell have been broken down, so are the gates and doors of the church open throughout Bright Week.

Many, if not most people in my parish make traditional rich breads and Pascha Cheese (a mildly sweet loaf made of cream cheese and others) to eat at the feast, but I have never done this. One new friend, when she heard that I hadn’t baked anything for my household, was mildly horrified, but also very pleased that she had good reason to give me one of the four braided breads that she’d baked Saturday morning, in the style of her homeland of Moldova. So I went home with this cheese-filled pastry, which I’ve been enjoying very much.

As to the spiritual feast, truly, we need all the time until Pentecost to even partially digest the reality of it. I expect to be in Greece for the feast of Pentecost, which will be different! But for the next few weeks we live in the radiance of “Christ is risen!” May the light of the Resurrection shine on your whole week, and make it Bright.