It happened this week. I was working; raking in the forest when I began unearthing old bones. Large bones under a red cedar tree. They had with time become separated one from another. All with a greenish tint. Then the tine of my rake released the bleached skull under the brown fallen leaves amongst the new growth of salal. I picked it up. It was the skull of a male buck. It was mostly intact except a lot of the teeth were missing. When had they fallen out? Had he returned intentionally because he knew this hollow under the cedar as intimately as I know my cabin? I put the skull back carefully and concealed it under the bushes. The deer is like my younger brother. I am reminded of long ago sitting quietly amongst the folds of tree skirts; a young girl listening. Was it then when I fell in love with trees? They have taught me I am small and unimportant but what I do is important. Did the trees notice the girl? I heard the crows in the tree-tops laughing. Last spring I planted this rhododendron to celebrate my motherhood; my movement within the circle of life. This is the first blossom and I am sharing it with you.
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What a beautiful story. I suppose if it was an old buck it would have lost its teeth..and probably "come home" like an animal will do-to rest its world weary bones.
ReplyDeleteYour rhododendron is beautiful, Ronda. A living testimony to your motherhood.
You write so beautifully- it is prose at its best. Love to you- Diana
Thank you Diana. I have been looking forwards to this blossom.
DeleteAnd I am a part of this circle of beings who walk the earth, learning, listening, finding out that we are dust BUT must contribute to what will last: goodness and love, inspiration that keeps going round and round. Ronda, this was such a beautiful prose poem!!!!!!!! Anita
ReplyDeleteThank you Anita. I wish everyone would choose to leave that legacy.
Deletea kindred soul in my love of trees.
ReplyDeletei've always found them to be sacred. and unable to explain my feelings for them. you have said my feelings here so perfectly.
in colorado i had a secret place as a girl. it was the half hollowed trunk of an old cottonwood near a stream. just the right sized room for a seven year old with new teeth and coltish legs who needed to be alone at times. many times really. just with the tree.
you have the soul of a poet.
i love your vibrant motherhood blossom. and that you let the buck rest in peace with his bones.
Thank you for your kind words they are like sunshine to me.
DeleteI agree with Diana, prose at its best. Gorgeous color!
ReplyDeleteThank you Kim.
DeleteYou never know what stories trees can tell! I have a great love for trees too, and to look at them, and wonder what storms they have weathered, and what has taken place around them through the years, what animals have found cover in the storms from their limbs - so much! I loved your writing about the tree, and finding the bones of the buck. It made me wonder, how is the buck like your younger brother? And the blossom of your rhododendron is beautiful - so happy that it has finally bloomed for you :)
ReplyDeleteThe deer can be mischievous.
DeleteWhat a beautiful story and blossom, Ronda. xo Laura
ReplyDeleteThank you Laura for stopping by and leaving a sweet comment.
DeleteHello,
ReplyDeleteA beautiful story and I love the flower!
xx oo
Carla
Thank you Carla.
DeleteBeautiful post, Ronda. You write so well. And thank you for sharing your first rhododendron with us. It's lovely! I think of your daughter as being like this flower, the first bloom in your mother garden.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I have another that I planted just for her. I will have to show it to you sometime. It seems they don't bloom at the same time. Thank you for your kind comment and for dropping by.
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