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Otherwise known as 'Blackboys', 'Grass trees' or 'Yacca', these slow growing plants can be take 600 years to reach 5m height. They often require a bush fire to stimulate flowering and can produce a flower spike up to 4m high. These were photographed at Deep Creek conservation park in South Australia
'No Shooting'... unless you're the guy that put up this sign. Plenty of shooting goes on around here. Drives our dog nuts.
Spring in bloom, with some wonderful trees outside of my office in north Overland Park.
Monday afternoon 30 March 2015.
~If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.~
Painting in: Artrage Studio Pro
I really appreciate your visits and kind comments.
Special thanks to all who fave my work.
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I'm not going to go out in the sub-zero weather and just shoot one shot of this tree. I'm always amazed that it's still standing.
love
Most words have been spoken,
Mostly everything has been seen. Please leave it, for the next person as you found it.
The fight you have within yourself, likely has been fought by another. No need to leave a permanent mark on this land.
Love yourself
THE TREE-MAN
Y Gwialwr
I made a tryst, by my troth
With she who never tells truth,
In sylvan house, strewn with vines,
I await her there in vain.
A house I built, for my witch,
Of leaves, then set fruitless watch,
Overgrown my oak-tree grove,
Lapped by lakes, a living grave.
In summertime, I like to trust
Her wilful ways to keep the tryst:
Upon each branch, buds will break,
Midsummer on the brink
Of dawning. I am blessed:
Twenty summers I can boast
Without once, as I live,
Having lied regarding love:
How? I’m silent. But how sharp
Her lies – alas, she won’t shut up!
I spoke, yet she paid no heed,
Acting like she had not heard.
I first made tryst with Madam
When the dust was made Adam;
I have waited five long lives,
Face wrapped with the hedgerow leaves,
Parched by sun, drenched by rain,
No man living knows such pain:
There are trees, great-girthed, that grow
Perforce above me. Frost, snow
Have barked my skin, rough and raw
As rind of lowland’s withered haw –
‘A tree-man’, so they say, ‘No jest,
Or some poor saint put to test.
Gwernabwy’s eagle; stone clutcher,
Is not so old; no creature
Waits as long. No Stag giving counsel
Nor Cilgwri’s ancient Ousel.
Llyn Llyw’s Salmon was small fry;
Cwm Cawlwyd’s owl too young to fly.’
Know, girl, love grows from my girth
Like Aaron’s rod thrust in the earth,
And when I lie down, I shall root
In my own grave. A quickened shoot
Cannot be buried in the mould,
Though I’m gnarled and grim and old.
Whet a knife and cut them stark:
Her initials in my bark.
Engrave her picture where I lie,
Since I love, and cannot die.
- Attributed to Dafydd ap Gwilym; paraphrased by Giles Watson. Dafydd’s authorship has been questioned, but the rich allusiveness of this poem certainly bears his trademarks: especially the manner in which references to the Old Testament are blended with folkloric motifs of more obviously pagan origin. The references to the creation of Adam and to Aaron’s rod (Numbers 17), are balanced by a string of comparative hyperboles emphasising the length of the poet’s waiting for his love. In Culhwch and Olwen, a tale from the Mabinogion, King Arthur’s knights seek the whereabouts of Mabon son of Modron. Gwrhyr, the Interpreter of Tongues, speaks in turn to each of the Oldest Animals, enquiring as to Mabon’s whereabouts. The Ousel of Cilgwri tells him that once there was a smith’s anvil in the field, and the Ousel has been smashing snails and whetting his bill on it ever since, so that it is now worn to the size of a nut, but he has never heard of Mabon. The Stag of Redynvre says that an oak sapling has grown old, died, and worn into a stump in his lifetime, but he has never heard of Mabon. The Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd says that he has lived to see three forests grow on the glen that is his home, and has seen all three uprooted, but he has never heard of Mabon. The Eagle of Gwern Abwy once perched on a rock which his talons have now worn to a pebble, but he has never heard of Mabon. Finally, the Eagle leads Gwrhyr to the Salmon of Llyn Llyw, apparently the oldest creature on earth, and only he knows where Mabon is imprisoned. I have attempted to iron out an apparent inconsistency: early on, the poet claims to have lived only for twenty summers, but he later implies that his tryst with his beloved took place in antiquity. No doubt the latter is a deliberate exaggeration, but I have chosen to suggest instead that the poet (long since transformed into a tree) has been silent for twenty years because his trunk has fallen and is now growing recumbent. I have never seen any analysis of this poem in discussions of the “Green Man”, but whilst the poet’s tone is clearly tongue-in-cheek, it is difficult to dismiss the idea that foliate carvings or illuminations may have played a part in his inspiration.
The painting is a study of a favourite willow pollard on the River Ock. Wax crayon and gouache. A photo of the willow can be seen at:
www.flickr.com/photos/29320962@N07/3222385945/in/set-7215...
Thüringer Wald (Thuringian Forest)
Spruce trees monocultures are very common in the Thuringian Forest. I hope, it gets slowly transformed in a more natural type of forest with a higher biological diversity. At least there are already some small deciduous trees at the ground.
The famous Chandelier tree or Drive-thru tree in Leggett, California. Photographed with a Leica IIIc using an Elmar lens, this is a 25 second exposure. The film is expired Kodak Panatomic-X developed in Beerenol (Rainier Beer).