When I think of very big, very old trees, I think of oaks. Although I have seen redwoods north of San Francisco, and they are much much taller than any other trees I've seen, they're SO big, they don't quite register in my mind. The oaks I've known since childhood in Louisiana are imprinted in my head when I think of ancient, venerable trees.

So in my single-mindedness, I am educated and fascinated by an article in the October 1996 issue of Smithsonian. "To be a champion, a tree must measure up to high standards." That's the title of the article by Bil Gilbert, about the National Register of Big Trees in the U.S. The Register judges individual trees, submitted by enthusiastic citizens. They rate the trees, using a point system, not only the biggest of all trees, but for the biggest within a species.

The Register does include a 313 foot redwood in California. But there are many other species mentioned I'd never considered before.

Sitka Spruce
American Chestnut (The article states that before 1900, 25 percent of deciduous trees east of the Mississippi were American Chestnuts.)
Douglas Fir
Blackhaw
Osage-Orange
White Ash
Eastern Redcedar
Jerusalem Thorn (or Mexican Paloverde)
Emory Oak
Balsam Fir
Western Dogwood
May Hawthorne
Mojave Yucca
Sequoia
American Elm
Western Juniper
Rocky Mountain Juniper

Though I'm not familiar with half these species, I like typing these words, reading their names. To know their existence.

And yes, Gilbert includes the Louisiana live oaks. He adds 'currently, 67 species of oaks have certified champions.' That's what they call them - the individual trees that make the list. Champions. Not only for size, but endurance.

--

This same issue of the Smithsonian includes articles that recognize the endurance of human beings as well. One is on those who followed the network known as the Underground Railroad to escape slavery, and one is on savage events of the Holocaust.

Anthony Cohen is an historian who set out to follow one of the trails runaway slaves took to Canada, one hundred and fifty years previously. He made an 800 mile journey from Maryland to Niagara Falls, walking as much as 37 miles a day, shipping himself in a box on a train for part of the distance, as some escapees had done. He states he hoped to learn more deeply, to know more fully the slaves' experience that Cohen knew only through books. There is a photo of him walking, and a photo of a flyer reporting an escaped 22-year-old man, and a reward for his return to his master. The poster shows a silhouette of a slave walking.

The article on the Holocaust mentions that some of the Nazis later convicted of war crimes tried to defend themselves by saying they were legally bound to obey their commanding officers. Cohen (from the underground railroad article) asks, referring to people who housed runaway slaves along the routes: 'Would you risk your well-being to help others, even if you knew jail was the punishment for getting caught? Would you break the law to do what's morally right?'

It's late tonight, and I'm meandering. Closure is good in stories, and in blog posts. Each of these three articles, connected within one issue, arouses a passion in me. The ancient trees, present now and at the time of these events, stand without judgment of our human folly and compassion.

the oaks, the cypress,
the cedar, the catalpa,
the pecan, the cottonwood,
the sycamore and magnolia -

yellow-crowned night heron
Austin, Texas

I wish I had an orange umbrella
for shelter from the sun -





According to AccuWeather, the high here in Austin, Texas was 103 degrees Farenheit yesterday. They predict a high of 106 for today.

light danced off the surface of the water
she could fit in
or she could be herself
the truth was
she couldn't quite do both at the same time

oops -



no wonder we felt a little lost at times, from the (prison, or security of the) finite to the infinite, etc....

a few visitors this month -

Galls, berries, and, for want of a better word, pox. I picked up this branch from the ground, and was taken by how much was going on.

A leaf-footed bug was in my path, and as I admired her, she laid an egg. In the top photo, you might be able to see it, like a translucent pearl, near the stem. The first time I've ever seen a bug lay an egg; I was awed.

Juneteenth, 2012



Booker T. Washington was nine years old when the emancipation of slaves came about in his part of the country. Here are a few paragraphs from his autobiography, Up From Slavery, written about his experiences a year or two after he and his family were freed:


'In the midst of my struggles and longing for an education, a young coloured boy who had learned to read in the state of Ohio came to Malden. As soon as the coloured people found out that he could read, a newspaper was secured, and at the close of nearly every day's work this young man would be surrounded by a group of men and women who were anxious to hear him read the news contained in the papers. How I used to envy this man! He seemed to me to be the one young man in all the world who ought to be satisfied with his attainments.

'About this time the question of having some kind of a school opened for the coloured children in the village began to be discussed by members of the race. As it would be the first school for Negro children that had ever been opened in that part of Virginia, it was, of course, to be a great event, and the discussion excited the widest interest. The most perplexing question was where to find a teacher. The young man from Ohio who had learned to read the papers was considered, but his age was against him. In the midst of the discussion about a teacher, another young coloured man from Ohio, who had been a soldier, in some way found his way into town. It was soon learned that he possessed considerable education, and he was engaged by the coloured people to teach their first school. As yet no free schools had been started for coloured people in that section, hence each family agreed to pay a certain amount per month, with the understanding that the teacher was to "board 'round" - that is, spend a day with each family. This was not bad for the teacher, for each family tried to provide the very best on the day the teacher was to be its guest. I recall that I looked forward with an anxious appetite to the "teacher's day" at our little cabin.

'This experience of a whole race beginning to go to school for the first time, presents one of the most interesting studies that has ever occurred in connection with the development of any race. Few people who were not right in the midst of the scenes can form any exact idea of the intense desire which the people of my race showed for an education. As I have stated, it was a whole race trying to go to school. Few were too young, and none too old, to make the attempt to learn. As fast as any kind of teachers could be secured, not only were day-schools filled, but night-schools as well. The great ambition of the older people was to try to learn to read the Bible before they died. With this end in view, men and women who were fifty or seventy-five years old would often be found in the night-school. Sunday-schools were formed soon after freedom, but the principal book studied in the Sunday-school was the spelling-book. Day-school, night-school, Sunday-school, were always crowded, and often many had to be turned away for want of room.'

in the land of make-believe, there were creatures of many shapes and sizes. There were those so very huge, so very gargantuan, that we could not see them at first. What we were looking at was perhaps a lower lip, the size of a stand of trees. There were some that were so very small we did not know of their existence until we happened to blow up a photograph and saw that the enlargements had funny tiny cartoon beings in the crevices. Some were not visible to us at all, and only happened to be discovered when certain filters were on our cameras. Some birds, bugs and beings moved at such high speeds (inhabiting a layer where time moved faster) they were only a flicker in our vision. Some moved so very slowly, we didn't know they were alive. Some communicated in our own languages, others in language that sounded vague yet familiar, like puppies whining. Some communicated in ways that we did not notice at first, and only in time did we learn to recognize their signs - thought and emotional patterns - passing through our minds.

The largest were not necessarily the most powerful. Some were little more than great pools of tranquility. The smaller were sometimes the most influential on our activities, like mosquitos might be, or tiny Winston Churchills.

All of these beings, these residents, were interconnected with us and with each other, occupying or shoving or loving or hating or sleeping within the same or intersecting realms, whether we knew they were there or not.

blooms and seed pods, Austin, June 2012

From the trenches this week, some non-expert observations: Soaking in a tub with a handful of baking soda added to the water does a lot toward relieving the ferocious itchiness of chigger and mosquito welts. Mosquito bites are more fiery soon after the gals (and only the gals) drill into the skin. Immersing the affected limb in ice water is more effective than caladryl or cortisone cream. Toothpaste works surprisingly well, but only for about half a minute.

Chigger welts emerge more slowly as the tiny bugs dig deep into the flesh causing a localized allergic reaction. (They're actually pretty fascinating critters, if you're not currently suffering from them). While there have been plenty of mosquitoes, the overall insect population is still awry around here. I have seen a beautiful huge blue and black swallowtail or two, one tree roach, a handful of crickets, and some very tiny ants.

I've seen one honey bee in the ligustrum and crepe myrtle. I have seen an occasional unusual bumble bee, and one gigantic wasp. In central Louisiana last month, a swarm of very active black, bee-like insects were swarming around holes in the outside of the garage, but I'd never seen them before. I have some poor quality pictures I hope to dig up.

Funguses are essential for the decomposition of matter such as leaves and roadkill and animal scat. Funguses are in part what makes the difference between sterile dust and rich crumbly loam that many gardeners crave.

Funguses also feed many insects. Some funguses grow on insects and eventually cause their demise.

(I wonder if burying mushrooms in one's garden in the fall would enhance the soil by spring? Compost from food scraps would probably have a lot to offer.)

I saw a female, or perhaps juvenile, grackle this week carrying what looked like a large spherical seed. The bird dunked it in a small puddle of dirty water at the curb, and then, it carried it to a lawn and I believe buried it in the ground.

I never saw or heard of grackles until I arrived in Texas in the late 1970s. They were plentiful at Zilker Park. I was impressed by the range of their noisy calls, their size, their glossy black feathers. I'd never even heard or read the word grackle before, not even in old novels. I don't know if that's just my ignorance, or if they weren't common in the past. They are now one of the most abundant birds in Austin.

The white-winged doves are relative newcomers. They slowly made their way north to the Austin area in the 1990s. I never saw a white-winged dove until after 1990. There were mourning doves and inca doves here before them. The white-winged doves then became abundant and dominant. They and the grackles seem to be survivors, able to adjust their housing, diets, and sleeping habits to whatever's happening in the city.

The two times I've watched woodpeckers building nests in a tree (golden-fronted around 2002 and red-bellied this spring), starlings stared them out of the nests just as the woodpeckers were finishing, and the starlings moved in. The woodpecker pairs protested loudly for a couple of days to no avail.

Pigeons, tending toward dark gray, have evolved to impressive sizes here, almost as big as chickens. I have a photo of a pigeon next to a house sparrow that looks comical. There are still house sparrows in large numbers. Male cardinals I've seen look more dusty orange than red.

If you saw a bird in Austin this week, it would likely be a grackle, a white-winged dove, a house sparrow, a pigeon or a starling. Though the drought is still on, these birds are adaptive troopers.

You might see a blue jay, or a mockingbird. There are purple martins and cliff swallows.

A great blue heron swooped over my head this week and above the Shoal Creek bed - that was wonderful.

crepe myrtle

The layers of existence, even when considering only our own dear planet, are more numerous, intricate, and interwoven than ever I imagined.

I call them black freckles. In the last few days, I've run into several clusters of black spots on local sidewalks, sometimes paint, sometimes debris. I took a photo of the third set I came across, this time near a middle school yesterday. Then I wished I had pics of the others; they were eye-catching, kind of silly, and might have worked as a blog post.

Tonight, I was writing a message on a post card (see above). It's a photo of Hiroshige's woodblock color print of Kinryuzan Temple, Asakusa, taken by Philip Pocock. I turned it over to admire the art. There at the base of the 1856 print was a spray of black freckles.

So. Alright. Seems to be a kind of timely nudge to go ahead! Write about black freckles.

So I searched through my file for the middle school image. I found the sidewalk picture, and then I looked at the picnic table photo just before it.

Another patch of black freckles.

The field's carpeted by
silver-leaf nightshade,
rich greens and purples
that are soothing to the eye.
I bend down,
and let my fingers scrape through
the matted grasses
at the base of the flowers.
The earth is dry and hot
and hard like rock.
With wonder, I look again at the beautiful field,
and then at the dust on my fingertips.



north central Austin, Texas, 10 June 2012

Sometimes the sun is so bright I can't see to take a photo. I blindly aim and hope for the best. I got a very fine image of a burr oak acorn that way a couple years ago. These images are less polished, but I was drawn to the glimmering silk of the seeds. There are some similarities to dandelions in the seed design, but this was more shrub-like with multiple blooms. (Taken in Austin, 5 June 2012)

(May 9, Austin, Texas)

Sunflowers
bold and yellow
arch toward sky;
the song
of the ice cream man -

Walking home yesterday, I was on a street that crosses Shoal Creek. This is the creek looking south from the street:

This is the creek looking north:

I saw a bird who seemed intent on hunting for food. (It may be a green heron.) I took its picture.

Then I saw motion - a snake crossing the creek! The light was very bright. I took its picture but couldn't really see. Then I saw a snake near the bird.

When I got home and looked at the images on my computer, there was a surprise. Can you find the second snake?

(Returning to photos from Arkansas, May 2012)