Time to Wake Up
Crazy Maurice has a few things to say
Most people can spot one of the earliest signs of an impending Spring when willow stems turn a bright yellow. That color really stands out on the landscape, especially if you contrast it to the browns or whites that are usually prevalent in Iowa during the colder months.
Crazy Maurice (our Weeping Willow tree) has been showing signs of waking up since February. In fact, the yellow is changing to yellow-green as the buds of new leaves start to swell and open. Crazy Maurice is actually quite awake right now, but he is also quite busy. Waking up after a long Winter can be an all-consuming process. Especially since there is so much to contemplate and a major event to endure.
Even so, Crazy Maurice was kind enough to offer up some beginning of the year thoughts as I went out to visit him on the day of the solar eclipse. I thought everyone might enjoy hearing some of this thoughtful tree’s words - even if I had to edit them a bit.
You see, trees take their time saying what they have to say and they know how to use their words. But there typically are lots and lots of words.
Crazy Maurice on Visits and the Eclipse
It was actually nice to have a visit from the Fuzzy Guy with the Red Hat (Farmer Rob), despite what the old Oaks on the farm say about him (they said it wasn't a good idea for trees to talk to farmers). Sometimes, Fuzzy Guy comes out to my corner of the farm on that rolling, red thing that growls like it's always wanting more to eat even though it isn't really hungry (he means Rosie, our tractor). But, this time, he walked out here to see if the clouds would stop hiding the sun so he could watch the moon eat it instead. (and, if you don’t understand that, Maurice is referring to the eclipse on a cloudy day)
Say what you want about farmers, but it felt pretty nice to have him come out because he wanted to share this event with me. He even asked me what I thought about it.
The thing he calls the “sun” is the food that sustains and the light that brings growth and goodness. I feel its presence and eagerly desire to partake of its life as it shows itself more and more often as this part of the season cycle progresses. But, those of us who are awakening don’t mind so much when the clouds hide the light, because that often means we receive another life-bringing substance. I think the farmer calls it “rain.”
“Rain” certainly seems like a very short word for a very complicated and important thing. And we haven’t seen much of that lately. Or so I’ve been told. I have been pretty sleepy and the days slip by sometimes before I realize it. But, my sense is that we haven’t had much rain for a season’s cycle or two.
That’s what happens when you contemplate moss. Or the soil. Or the whims of Red-Hatted Farmers. You sometimes lose track of the smaller pieces of time. I think the Fuzzy Guy calls them weeks and months, but I’m not entirely sure what they mean.
Most of my tree friends are still pretty sleepy, but we all have been sensing an approaching doom. We know that the moon is seeking to consume our precious food source. Usually, we have no concerns and no conflict with “the night-time orb that eats itself and returns.” In fact, it can be an interesting thing to contemplate as we watch it eat itself and then grow back until it returns to its round shape once again.
It certainly seems pretty selfish of the moon to also want to eat the sun. Much of the tree and plant community is pretty worried that it would not let the sun grow back as the moon does for itself. I wish the Oaks were done with their slumber. They are eldest at the farm and they might have wisdom to share - if they were so inclined.
But, they’re just mumbling and snoring right now. No help at all.
The Farmer and the Willow Witness an Eclipse
At this point, I asked Maurice how he could possibly know about the eclipse. After all, it was cloudy and we couldn’t see the sun. And, I’m pretty sure Crazy Maurice doesn’t have an internet connection to check on this sort of thing and he doesn’t have a newspaper subscription that I am aware of. Besides, what self-respecting tree would want something made out of TREES to be delivered daily for his reading pleasure?
At this point, there was a great deal of tree-ish explanation that I don’t exactly understand. There was something about connections and knowing and being.
Let’s just leave it at this. Trees just knew something was about to happen.
At this point in time, the eclipse was, if we could have seen it, getting pretty serious and Crazy Maurice went silent. I could sense some sort of tension, but it wasn’t coming just from the tree. The birds that had been singing on the farm became hesitant, stopping their well-practiced songs before reaching the normal conclusion. Sometimes, a songbird would start a song and stop somewhere in the middle, their final note sounding a good deal like a question mark.
Then - the world held its collective breath.
And the moon ate the sun. And we knew it was happening even though the cloud-cover was obscuring the event.
Then a small break in the clouds exposed the moon in the middle of this act of desecration. And I managed to get a picture.
After that, the clouds again covered the destruction of the light that is sustenance. But the regrowth of the sun was in doubt at that point and the silence remained.
Happily, the moon DID allow the sun to recover and regenerate. And, the clouds did move (mostly) out of the way so the trees and the birds and the rest of creation could witness the return of the light.
There was a sigh of relief.
At that point, Crazy Maurice was intent on talking about other things, the stressful event apparently no longer worthy of discussion.
Crazy Maurice on Flowers, Birds and Chickens
You know, I understand that the Fuzzy Guy with the Red Hat has other things to do. But it is always so nice to know that he wants to come visit with me. He even listens pretty carefully - for a hasty human. And he brings me news of places I cannot go.
Fuzzy Guy told me that there are some flowers showing up at the farm including one type he calls a Pasque Flower. Since I don't get around too much (ha ha. That's a tree joke.). He took a moment to describe them to me.
These Pasque Flowers sound like a light-eater I could get to like. They are among the first to emerge from the ground and bloom each year. I can respect another plant that likes to get an early start on things - even if they are pretty darned small and even though they handle the cold months by hiding under the surface of the soil. Somehow, that seems like cheating.
I made a suggestion that it would be neat to have one of those flowers within my range of sight and Fuzzy Guy said something about "We'll see...."
This is where I wish I could teach Fuzzy Guy about using his words. As it is, it is hard enough for me to understand him because he uses so few words to explain things that deserve many MORE words. I just know, for example, that these little "Pasque Flowers" deserve a much bigger and more useful name. In fact, I have found that some of the smallest things require the most words.
Anyway, I suspect this "we'll see" thing is code for something. I mean, if he just put one of these flowers nearby, then we could BOTH see it. Right? So, that could be what he means, couldn't it? It would make sense. But, knowing Fuzzy Guy, his sense isn’t always my sense.
Being one of the first to wake up gives me the opportunity to welcome some of the "hops around in branches, flaps in the sky and make pretty, high-pitched, noises things" (birds) as they return. The "noisy, squawky, ground hoppers that the farmer feeds, etc..." (chickens) are a bit further away from me this time of year - and I am very fine with that. Those busy-bodies just never seem to shut up and it doesn't seem to matter what time of year it is for them. They just like to chatter about nothing in particular.
Don't get me wrong. The chickens (as the Fuzzy Guy calls them) are fine visitors in the warmer months. They can be amusing and quite absurd.
Absurd is a word Fuzzy Guy explained to me a long time ago. I like it so I use it often in our conversations. He seems to think I don’t fully grasp when it should be used. But that doesn’t matter because it encourages him to use more words as he tries to explain why I used it wrong. Don’t tell him I’m deliberately (another fun word) doing this to encourage him to use his words. I want him to take these opportunities to grow his patience for words and be more tree-ish.
Anyway, I do prefer a chance to read the news of the world as it unfolds in the Spring without the incessant interruptions from the noisy, squawky… um… chickens.
The grasses and clover in the pasture areas are greening up and my other tree friends out here are getting the sap running. I have to admit that I only tolerate Blaise, the Maple, because he can get a bit pompous. But, Minnie the Mighty is turning out to be a delightful youngling, even if she is an Oak. She is showing me that Oaks are not inherently aloof and cantankerous.
Fuzzy Guy mentioned that the Ash trees on the farm no longer harvest the sun and that they have planted some younger trees in that area. Of course, I knew the Ashes no longer speak because we (the trees) do share the news. The Ashes really weren't a bad sort, to my way of thinking. A bit quicker to accept a 'hasty tree,' such as myself - unlike the old Oaks. Perhaps the Ashes were not the most creative - but they came from good seed, as we say. Sadly, their end came prematurely. But, sometimes there is no way of avoiding such things.
I am glad to hear that Pretty Lady and Fuzzy Guy have planted some younger trees near the old Ashes. Since I get most of my tree news from the furthest parts of the farm from the bigger trees (because I can see and hear them), I only get partial updates about the younglings. The Oaks claim they don't think much of the rest of us. They prefer their own company. But they also say I am getting harder to ignore.
That might not be intended as a compliment. But, I think that might also be because there are so few older trees on the farm. Even the old Oaks are realizing that the younger (and often hastier) trees hold more prominence here. Regardless, it gives me something more to ponder.
Now I shall spend some time observing the turning of the Earth. There is so much to see. And so much to learn. And so many words to describe it all.
I appreciate your talking to and listening to trees. My trees have names, and we also visit. Not sure what the neighbors think, but I think they are missing an interesting experience. Thanks for your blog - your wisdom and humor.
I wish we could all communicate with nature the way you can, Rob. I suspect we all have the ability, we just don't take the time. What a loss. So, keep sharing these conversations with us, Rob.