I miss the cool breeze that gently reminds you that it is not yet summer, despite the bright sunshine, and brings with it the salty smell of the sea.
Yet today, in Texas, the sun is bright, the air is cool, and the light is perfect. It is as if my wish has come true. It is Easter, and although we have no wild primroses here, the Grape hyacinth is up in armies, and the hedgerows are full of honeysuckle and Nandina, with bees buzzing busily between the blooms. Cardinals are calling their lyrical song, and a lone Dove is cooing mournfully , muffled by the Jay’s sharp cry, bidding for nesting space in the big Oak tree above.
I rescued a young fledgling sparrow from the fireplace chimney, and coaxed it outside towards the light. The cat watched intently through the window where he had been banished for the duration of the task.The sparrow flew out with a fanfare flutter , and was welcomed by the warbling of some sweet bird yet to be identified. The air is thick with Oak tree pollen and the heady smell is intoxicating.
Then as the sounds of a Police car in the distance, and an industrial siren pierced through the hypnotic perfume, I was reminded of the poem written by William Wordsworth, “ Lines Written in Early Spring “, when he laments what man has made of man. Wordsworth often celebrated the joys of nature, and believed that nature held powerful lessons for mankind. But even in the early 19th century, he felt that connection withering, due to the industrial revolution and the impact on our lives.
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
The Native Americans have an essential connection to nature. Their culture, their spirituality, no matter what tribe, believe that we learn everything from listening and paying attention to nature.
Here is an anonymous Native American poem illustrating that fact most eloquently.
"Stand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside you are not lost.
Wherever you are is called here,
and you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
must ask permission to know it and be known."
"The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again saying, 'here.'
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, you are surely lost.
The forest knows where you are.
You must let it find you.
Easter symbolizes spring and rebirth and that is reflected in the abundance of budding flowers and and the busying of Nature around us.
It is my fervent hope that Nature will teach us how to live in peace and harmony one fair day.
I have included a few of my photographs taken here in Texas, to illustrate this week's blog post, and give you a taste of Spring, no matter where you are in the world.
Happy Easter to you all!