“There is a language older by far and deeper than words. It is the language of bodies, of body on body, wind on snow, rain on trees, wave on stone. It is the language of dream, gesture, symbol, memory. We have forgotten this language. We do not even remember that it exists…”
“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. [Read more...]
My Brother Lorne sent me a link to Douglas Noblet’s Wild Air Photography site. We grew up in the Kootenays in Southeastern, British Columbia, Canada. Douglas’ pictures left me in wonder. As a child growing up, you don’t fully appreciate what is out your back door. Doug’s awesome photographs make my heart swell with pride and leave me inspired. About earth. About nature. About home. Good Sunday morning. [Read more...]
↓ Click For Audio (“Snowstorm 1814” by Shady Bard From the Album “First The Winter“)
Sources: Date/time start of winter. The Farmers Almanac. Sources & Credits for these photo shares (and many other winter photos) can be accessed with a Tumblr account @ dkwinter. Yes, that is our Zeke – in the third photo – his first winter – with snow on his nose.