Nature as Muse Report, February 5

Oh it was a dark and dreary day! There were only no-shows for the scheduled walk. However there was a couple at Adkins who were dropping off some art to be judged; having driven down from Baltimore they were going to go for a walk. So I kept with the planned theme and we took the walk together.

There was a steady drizzle with no wind, so we were treated to jewels of water, collected at every dip along every branch reflecting what little light there was. In the subdued light we were able to pick out some egg clusters on the marsh grass and imagine just what butterflies we will be seeing this spring. The dog wood blossoms stood out as advertisements to come and see what beauty there is to be in the near future.

Along the Meadow Walk, in contrast to the many greys upon grey, were the black raspberry stems with grey on blue and the blackberry with the red stems; both of them proudly showing there small claws just daring entry. One tree still held the yellow and red berries of the bitter sweet which were showing off in the subdued light. The mulberry tree was standing there all rough and snarly looking like some menace against the cloudy background.

We noticed the Blockston Branch winding its way down to the Tuckahoe; clear as a bell, tempting us to taste a sip. Trees suffering from old age or high wind leaned on their neighbors waiting to come to rest on the ground. On the ground under the Virginia and Loblolly pines were some mosses who looked like they themselves were aspiring to be pine trees; each of these showing off different hues of green in the subdued light.

I was glad that we took the time to see the sights that get special respect in the subdued light.
Al

Adkins Arboretum Book Club - Poetry Reading

paper snow

as in nature
no two are alike.

you snip neat triangles,
careful diamonds,
the leavings littering the floor
like new year’s confetti.

my scissors move
in swirls and curves,
feathers of white
drifting beneath the table.

the children sleep.
there are gifts to be wrapped,
mugs washed,
a dog waiting by the door.

still we linger,
and the peace builds
like falling snow.



below freezing

winter is
my lonely soul.

winter is
not knowing you
the way i do
in summer.

winter is
too many layers.

winter is
our words
unraveling towards
the white horizon,
a frozen cloud.


solstice notes

my solstice wind chimes
jewel the winter nights
with a wild sparkling
of notes.

before the freeze
i climbed
the twisted oak
to string them
from a gnarled branch.

in icy tempest
their music soothes
the wint’ring birds.

enchanted, i will sleep
in tuneful dreaming
until spring’s soft winds
invite a witch’s dance
beneath the stars.




whiteout

after all this time of clouds
the snow is falling,
so quickly covering
the places where we walked.

the river
iced over
is a blur of white.

how suddenly the familiar
becomes strange—

i will not even try
to make my way
through silent paths
to where we used to live.



s.a.d.


o bright god,
without you
winter disappoints.

in summer
i preferred shadow,
covered up
and wore dark glasses.

now
i drink you in,
shameless.

sometimes
i stand by the window
just to feel
your touch on my face.

at day’s end
i follow you
through the streets
and plead
“come back, come back.”

fortunate trees
on whose highest branches
you linger.

if you must leave,
leave with pastel longing,
but tomorrow
blind me
with your brilliance.


j. l. houghton