Why does the willow weep?
What secrets does she keep? –Ruth Elaine Schram
As I thought about a photograph for this week’s Thursday Tree Love, the weeping willow I captured five years ago [while roaming the neighborhood] insisted on my taking note of its character. Though the tree seems weak with its weepy, leafy branches, it is actually flexible and strong.
Considering the last several months–point taken.
I have a writing deadline to meet [eek!] and [therefore] no time for a longer post. Instead, I’ll leave you with “Interesting Facts About Weeping Willow Trees” and my favorite [and totally awesome] willow songs–Billie Holiday’s bluesy “Willow, Weep for Me” and Ruth Elaine Schram’s wistful “Why Does the Willow Weep?”
It is difficult to realize how great a part of all that is cheerful and delightful in the recollections of our own life is associated with trees. –Wilson Flagg
I realize the image above isn’t a “real” tree, but this tree is special to me. Wanda, my sophomore year college roommate and brilliant art major, painted and gave the tree to me as a gift at some point before we parted ways–she to an art school in New York, me to an internship in Maryland.
The inspiration for this watercolor was a young tree that grew outside of our first floor dorm room. We often sat in our room with the window open and gazed at this tree. When alone, we contemplated and meditated. When together, we people-watched and discussed the trials and triumphs of life and love with our favorite tree always in view.
I looked for the tree almost seven years ago when I first returned to the campus as a professor; unfortunately, it is no longer there. I don’t even have a photograph, so I’m grateful my roomie and friend immortalized the tree through her artwork.
Wanda informed me that her daughter [corrected] is headed to our alma mater this fall [gasp]! Hopefully, she’ll find a special tree and much that is cheerful and delightful.
Crepe myrtles come in bloom In the sunny summertime. They beautify the landscape, And we enjoy them so sublime.
from “Lovely Crepe Myrtles” by Margaret Cagle
One of the things I miss most about our home in New Orleans is the gorgeous trees that surrounded the property. Since our current neighborhood is fairly “young,” the trees have not grown to their full potential. There are no shady oaks or grand magnolias gracing lawns and gardens.
A tree that gave me a lot of pleasure was the crepe myrtle that grew near the curb leading to our driveway. I’ll have to do a deep dive into my photo files to see if I have any photos of that particular tree, but here are some snaps of crepe myrtles found in the [relatively] more recent files–shot since our move to Northern Alabama–including a tree I shot last weekend near Chattanooga, Tennessee.
One of the gorgeous sights I beheld when I looked through my office window [a few years ago] is a pair of crepe myrtles. They greeted me each time I left the building and headed out for a campus walk or an errand.
Imagine my chagrin when I exited the building one afternoon and met tree movers extracting the trees. [Images above]. Initially, I was horrified, but since our campus is clearly a tree haven, I assumed–because I’ve never asked–there was a problem with the trees.
Even though I lost the couple, there are many other crepe myrtles all over campus for me to enjoy. They are a sight to behold during the mid-summer when all the other blooms are resting till spring.
Whenever I travel in the South (USA), I encounter the trees with blooms of various colors–white, pink, purple, and red. So far, I’ve managed to capture the tree in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and now, Tennessee.
The crepe myrtle is a pretty tree, but I find it difficult to adequately convey the prettiness through photos.
There is something arresting and unearthly about a magnolia tree in flower. Something that dances between divinity and dementia. —Pavithra K. Mehta, Magnolia Tree
Louisiana girl that I am, the Southern Magnolia is [naturally] one of my favorite trees. I’ve been trying to “perfectly” capture the magnolia blossom for years. I remember stopping to photograph the blossoms whenever I could before our move from New Orleans because I wanted the perfect magnolia from New Orleansto deck one of our walls.
I managed to capture a few satisfactory shots before we left. They’re far less than perfect, but the expertly composed shots of the flower by my brother [on display in my parents’ home] and other photographers encourage me to keep working on it.
I felt the photos needed texture, so I added just a little [hopefully] without compromising the natural beauty of the flowers and tree.
The magnolia leaf, so elegantly formed, remains strong and glossy even after its fall.
Some of the blossoms deserved the stroke of Impressionism, so I “painted” some. I’ve come a long way with my art skills since I made a mess last week–thanks to the Impresso app. 😉
These are in various stages of bloom. My photo of a tightly closed bloom is “meh” at best, so I’ll spare you that one.
“And the time came…”
The tricky thing about photographing magnolias is finding ways around the height of the tree. The campus trees are really tall, but I was able to get nice “beneath the blossoms” shots.
“Twinsies”
“The Underside of Perfection”
The gorgeous “end” of the flower.
“Bald and Beautiful”
And finally, here’s a quick video I made of one of the magnolias on campus enjoying the company of the other trees. Thanks to Amanda, one of my photographer friends, for the tip about Pixaloop, which gave me the moving clouds and birds.
I quote Pavithra M at the beginning of this post. Her short piece, “Magnolia Tree” powerfully communicates the essence of the magnolia and our attraction to it. Be sure to click over and give it a read. But should you neglect doing so, I leave you with her closing words:
I think about this outlandish tree that races back to Time’s cradle, and its flowers that open alarmingly wide as if to swallow the sun, the way it gives itself madly to the moment. With radical generosity and no reservation. And what would be possible–if we could learn to live like that.
Nature, in all its wondrous glory,
Has produced much prettier things, for sure;
But, something within me moves each time
I feel the flowering redbud tree’s allure.
The redbud tree is one of the first indications of spring in these parts. Though the trees bloomed a little later this year and had to compete with the other beautiful blooms, they held their own and drew my attention each time I encountered them.
You can find out more about the tree by checking out the links below:
I’m not crazy about the two photos above. I have better photos, but [ugh!] I’m too sleepy to look through hundreds of spring photos. For now, enjoy the beautiful two from a June 2014 post (near the end of the short post).
It’s time for our first “tree love” post of May! Today, I’m sharing what I consider the crowning glory of spring–cherry blossoms!
I really should have written this post weeks ago when I had a little more energy, but I was so excited about the cherry blossoms that I couldn’t imagine being too tired for words for this particular post.
The cherry blossoms are usually the last to bloom on campus, but this year, they shot open at the same time as the dogwoods. In fact, things were so out of order that the redbuds–which normally bloom way before the cherry blossoms–were still in full bloom.
There are three trees that line one of the paths I walk frequently on campus, so I was pretty thrilled to spend time capturing them. In fact, I shot way more than 100 cherry blossom photos on two very different days–a cloudy day and a sunny day.
I did my best and whittled my selection down to 15 + a bonus post-blossoms iPhone photo. Still too many, but I hope you will enjoy them with a spot of tea and Toi Derricotte’s poem, “Cherry blossoms.”
I went down to
mingle my breath
with the breath
of the cherry blossoms.
There were photographers:
Mothers arranging their
children against
gnarled old trees;
a couple, hugging,
asks a passerby
to snap them
like that,
so that their love
will always be caught
between two friendships:
ours & the friendship
of the cherry trees.
Oh Cherry,
why can’t my poems
be as beautiful?
A young woman in a fur-trimmed
coat sets a card table
with linens, candles,
a picnic basket & wine.
A father tips
a boy’s wheelchair back
so he can gaze
up at a branched
heaven.
All around us
the blossoms
flurry down
whispering,
Be patient
you have an ancient beauty.
Be patient
you have an ancient beauty.
My favorite lens is a little wonky, so I wasn’t able to get the crisp shots I wanted, but even though these aren’t the best images, I love the bokeh in many of the photos.
Cherry blossom life is pretty short, so I wasn’t surprised to find a blanket of blossoms on the ground one rainy morning just a few days later.
For more blossom love, check out this beautiful time-lapse video from Brooklyn Botanic Garden.
The tree blossoms have pretty much come and gone in these parts, so it’s nice that #ThursdayTreeLove gives us an opportunity to revisit the blossoms of early spring. Since we celebrated the Resurrection of Christ (Easter) a few days ago, I’m sharing my bunch of dogwood photos along with the “Legend of the Dogwood.”
There is a legend that at the time of the crucifixion, the dogwood had reached the size of the mighty oak tree and other forest trees.
So strong and firm was the wood that it was chosen as the timber for Jesus’ cross.
To be used for such a cruel purpose greatly distressed the dogwood.
While nailed upon it, Jesus sensed this, and in his compassion said: “Because of your regret and pity for my suffering, never again shall the the dogwood tree grow large enough to be used for a cross.
Henceforth, it shall be slender, bent, and twisted, and its blossoms shall be in the form of a cross–two long and two short petals.
In the center of the outer edge of each petal will be the print of nails.
In the center of the flower, stained with blood, will be a crown of thorns so that all who see it will remember.”
Even though this is a cute story, keep in mind that there is no truth to this legend. Dogwoods do not grow naturally in Israel and would not have been used for the execution stake.
I shot the dogwood photos with my iPhone one cloudy day and with my “real” camera another [brighter] day. The first three shots in the posts are iPhone photos; the others are Canon photos. Although I’m impressed with the flexibility of the upgraded iPhone camera, it’s still no match for my Canon. 🙂
Be sure to tune in to the next #ThursdayTreeLove. I have more tree blossoms to share!
