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Even
though the horses had discarded shelter afforded by tall thickets and bordering
trees, I opted to shield myself from the sun by standing under forage shadows.
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Stepping
out into blinding sunshine, I became a victim of Tennessee’s humid heat. I
decided to wrap up my picture taking as the day grew increasingly warmer,
causing discomfort that horses apparently ignore. Capping lens on camera, I
started back to the promising air-conditioned relief that awaited me back at
Mom and Dad’s house. That’s when I noticed a striking group of red flowers that
had caught my eye by contrasting so boldly against their green surroundings.
Camera cap removed, I braved the heat a little longer to snap a few pictures of
these little red bell-looking beauties.
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Beads
of glistening sweat dripped from my hair as I noticed some withering flowers in
my batch of bright blooms. The sun had been unmerciful to some, and had begun
to redirect its wrath upon me. At least I would be refreshed soon by a chilled
glass of water…my flower friends would not be so lucky.
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As
I walked down the gravel driveway that promisingly leads to an indoor reservoir
that entrapped bearable temperatures, I stopped beside a fertile blossom of
dandelion seeds. As a child, I could never resist picking these and blowing
seeds into the wind. I remember my father advised my sister and I not to do
this since his well-maintained lawn became full of “ugly” dandelions, as a
direct result of our impulse. We frowned when he forbid spreading what we
considered yard decorations all over his property. He soon realized that his
advice could not be understood, nor heeded, by two little girls. I remember him
joining us once, to pick dandelion blooms and blow floating seeds into a warm
summer breeze. I suppose he decided since he couldn’t beat us, he should join
us.
On my nature walks, I am often reminded of beautiful memories like this one
that occurred on a day much like today. Perhaps that’s why I love taking
pictures of everything that surrounds me- because a photo inspires feelings
that resemble its nature. A picture of a dandelion will always remind me of a
cherished memory spent with my Dad and sister. A picture of a sad person will
forever inspire empathetic emotions within me, along with compassion for the one whose
misfortune has been photographically documented.
I whole-heartedly believe in
the power of pictures…and nature walks…especially when these are combined.
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I
had not yet reached the end of my yellow brick road (or gravel driveway, in
case your imagination is lacking) when I stopped under the next scarce patch of
shade. I looked into the forest that surrounds outer edges of Oz. (or parents’
air-conditioned house) I remember burying a time capsule here with my
neighborhood buddy, when we were much younger. We’d used a paint can to hold
our valuable TY beanie babies and letters we’d written with bright Crayola
markers. My Dad had helped us seal the tin that held our treasures so future
discoverers would be able to make out words that had been preserved from
weathering of any environmental disaster. I eventually dug up our capsule many
years later, to find all contents in tact. Thanks, Daddy.
Again, on my lone
walking/photography adventure, I had been reminded of youthful innocence and
joy. To others, this picture will not reveal a story. To me, it represents
happiness, hope, and love. I’d been happy to bury my time capsule and hopeful
that someone would find it (even though I did.) Love had been kept in my old
paint can, preserved as it waited patiently for me to re-discover it. I exposed
all emotions again when I took this picture through the woods that had housed
an uncommonly shaped treasure chest.
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My
sister called to me from the house, “Lunch is reeeeeeaadddddy!” Her voice
echoed against the wall of forest trees as I hurriedly tried to get a few more
pictures before heading back to the house. My dad had just finished grilling
fish and country-style ribs that tempted me to cap the camera lens again and
head inside to eat. I resisted this delicious temptation long enough for just
a…couple…more…pictures.
I
had to take one picture of my pine tree that strongly stood tall, proudly
defying the blistering heat that had threatened its ability to flourish. Full
branches of green needles lay motionless on this breezeless day, as basking
sunbathers who welcomingly invite harmful rays. Memories flooded my mind as
they always do when I look upon this particular tree. It, too, shared a story…
It
was Earth Day and I was a fourth grade 4-H club member. All students at West
Cheatham Elementary were given a small pine tree that they were supposed to
plant- in efforts to save the Earth, of course. I was given a dried up,
hunched-backed tree that had been miserably beaten during transport from 4-H
central office (or wherever else- origin of trees is unclear). I had listened
to our class speaker who had convinced a room full of impressionable children that
it was our duty to plant and nurture these tiny trees. Mine had been more
malnourished than Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. Nonetheless, I protected sick
baby tree on the bus ride home that day.
Excitedly, I told my Dad that we had
to plant it right away. My eagerness and mothering intentions were met harsh
reality as my father foretold probability of tiny tree’s death. He explained
that my tree had been out of the ground too long, and reviving its health was
not possible. Devastated, I cried with sobs of sorrow that suggested death of a
human being instead of a plant. I stubbornly demanded that my tree be given a
chance for survival as my little heart weighed with disappointment in my Dad’s
decision not to save the planet.
Realizing how his logical and realistic
predictions had traumatized his eldest nine-year-old daughter, my father
reassured me that the impending death of my tree would not doom planet Earth.
My sobs grew louder and more tears fell from my heavy eyes as I told my Dad
that I understood, but still wanted to plant my ill patient in an environment
more suitable for his death than the burlap sack that had suffocated him. Dad
grasped my tree and told me to follow him outside, where we planted the runt of
all tree spawns to most surely die.
Tying wires and strands of twill to feebly frail
branches, Dad anchored my pitiful pine into fertile soil, miraculously managing
to straighten its stalk and cure its hunch-backed handicap. I prayed the night
that followed my emotionally stressful day, hoping that God would prove Daddy
wrong by permitting my baby tree to live.
“Please save it,” I whispered into my
tear-stained pillow. “Show Daddy it can live.”
I don’t think God allowed my
pine to survive that night for the sole purpose of showing my father he had
been wrong. I’m not sure why God protected it from lawn mowers, snowstorms, and
heavy rains in the 20 years that followed. Whatever the all-knowing preserver’s
motives were, they allowed me to save the world when I was just a child…and
they made Daddy help, too.
We still can’t believe this tree survived. If my
father had known it was destined to live, I bet he would have picked a better
planting spot to accommodate its size. If I had known it would live, I would
have taken 3 more saplings from my 4-H club leader and boasted about the oxygen
supply that would be afforded by my natural ability to beat the odds.
This
picture- This pine tree- This walk taken on a hot summer day- will always be
remembered for the joy they contributed to my life.
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"Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like
it."
- Russel Baker |
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Then followed that beautiful
season... Summer....
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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"In June, as many as a dozen
species may burst their buds on a single day. No man can heed all of
these anniversaries; no man can ignore all of them."
- Aldo Leopold |
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"I still find each day too
short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all
the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see."
- John Burroughs
Today was too short for all I wanted to do, but I had thought many thoughts and managed to see a buzzing friend before heading inside. My parents' house will always feel like home, though I haven't lived there in over seven years. (I feel old now, counting back to my teenage youth)
I was greeted with cooler air that was full of delicious aromas of just-off-the-grill, glazed ribs. My Dad doesn't give himself enough credit when it comes to his grilling expertise. My mother whipped up sides of fresh veggies and melt-in-your-mouth potatoes to accent flavors in our main dish. Summer in the South wouldn't be the same without meals like this...and I was ready to devour each morsel that awaited my walk's return...
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Piping hot rolls were fresh out of
the oven, and I gobbled them up almost too quickly to replenish all I’d lost to
the heat of the day. Mmmm, Mmmmm…
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Every bite melted in my mouth as I
struggled to refrain from overindulgence of one of the best meals I’ve had this
year- definitely the best of this season. I wish all of my walks would end like
this one did! I left Mom and Dad’s that day with pictures, memories, and a full
stomach. This Southern Summer day gave me more than I ever expected and I hope
for many more just like it!
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