Where oh where can the apples be?
It is the middle of the northern hemisphere winter.
The time of death.
The time of life hidden.
Yet when I look at these mature apple trees, smiles of hope well up inside me.
My imagination sees apple blossoms;
Smells apple blossoms;
Tastes apples off the tree;
Tastes apple pies;
Tastes apfelcheuchli;
And having had my senses gratified, I sleep peacefully.
Please share your apple thoughts and memories.
Action? Most of us get no closer to the Arabian Peninsula than King Solomon’s medjool dates, and why not? If you had a choice between your home town and anywhere in the Arabian Peninsula, which would you choose?
My disclaimer is that previously I have lived 20 some *odd* years in and around the Arabian Peninsula. Gimme some of that Dubai, if you will. Go light on the Empty Quarter. And one thimble of Arabic coffee with the dates, please.
Where black forests white
Winter pushes at the edge
Unleashing colored dreams.
What happens under the cover of forests? Unpredictably dreamy grays become colours.
I’ve been writing landscape adventure stories the past couple years, and in a strange fashion, the narrators of each story have taught me new perceptions of landscape architecture and design.
For example, the narrator of Crystal Vision explained to me that landscape harbors danger for humans and that garden is safe and primarily provides for quiet introspection and also for active and regular energy exchange. The narrator explained further that both landscape and garden are deficient if not dominated by plants sustained by adequate water.
Yeah, it did make sense to me, anyone else agree?
It all happens at the town’s edge.
Been away awhile. In May 2017, while walking in Jardin des Plantes in Paris, I had a stroke and have been recovering since. Lots of things have happened. Will write more in due course
…if you can!
May Snow
A week ago I posted Wisteria photo taken the same day, so enamoured I was of its floriferous and fragrant presence. I called it a mature spring dream.
Today, just one week later I had the opportunity to observe a unique scientific reality—that is—higher elevations have cooler temperatures. And that dramatically affects the visual coming of spring.
I live in essentially the same easting and northing for the Wisteria photo and these weather photos below. All have been taken within a 5 mile by 5 mile square on a map. I can observe the weather at 500 meters above sea level—the Wisteria–no snow fall at all–only a cold spring rain.
And I can observe the weather at 1,500 meters above sea level which I did today. My easy access to these very different elevations is possible due to the well developed cog-wheel train system in operation year round in all weather conditions.
Today, at 1,500 meters and higher, I saw no crocus, no dandelion, no green. But I did have the joyous fun of a snowfall in mid Spring—large flakes in blizzard-like conditions up to 12” deep and sticking to all coniferous and deciduous trees and shrubs.
Good fun.
800 meters above sea level–at this elevation there was no snowfall but you can see the dynamic cloud activity–up the faces of the cliffs–along the valley floor–and the entire valley is covered and darkened by the low overcast.
1,500 meters above sea level–at this elevation I have entered the low overcast layer that caused the reduced light at 800 meters. Inside the overcast layer was snowing.
2,300 meters above sea level–at this level I have risen above the first overcast snowing and am now in snowfall from a higher overcast. This is where 12″ of snow had already fallen and the snow was still falling. A cog-wheel train at left.
Wisteria floribunda gently stirs…youthful fragrance…mature strength.
Imagine
late April
Northern hemisphere
Spring moisture
17 degrees centigrade
cloudless sky
mid morning
faint breeze…
…just enough to stir these sweet fragrances
and you will have no doubt…
as you gently and deeply inhale…
A mature spring is about.
***Warning Hate Inside***
When I was a kid, my dad used to send me out in the front yard lawn, early spring, saying, “Get rid of the dandelions—and get out all the roots, too.”
Never, I never won that battle. Always more dandelions and always more vociferous exhortations from my dad.
Dandelion hate. Part of my childhood.
Well, I’ve grown up and now live in a new neighborhood.
And by golly did I have fun yesterday glorifying in the 500 meters above sea level central Switzerland landscape—dancing with the dandelions.
A sea, waves of dandelions in all their floriferous glory. Dancing away my hate.
Dandelions…no matter how seen,
Glowing with energy,
The light of the field.
I’m sure they have forgiven me.
The dandelion landscape…er…seascape.
Dancing dandelions
Dandelion bounce–it’s fun
Dandelion threesome
Dandelion dominatrix
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/316562195″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”150″ iframe=”true” /]
About this time of year, the early spring on the northern slope of the Swiss Alps in the Jungfrau Region–as the grasses first turn a full green, as the first wild primroses bloom, as the forsythia and magnolias bloom, the farmers bring out the sheep and cows–the bells and their random mystical ringing. At this same time a unique spring melody plays as the sparrows and the blackbirds greet the animals and the warmer sunny days.
If you try, you can almost add this photo plus the bird song to discover the briefest moment of fresh, sweet, spring air in the Swiss Alps.
