Dogwood sepals drop
withering, their veins turn brown and
spring moves on
Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida). Notice the flowers are small and green. The showy white parts are called sepals, as they are technically not petals.
“There she is,” I repeat as one of the females cruised low over the grasses. Dark against the evening sky, long winged. I admire her tawny red-brown feathers and powerful flight. I remember how the male looks, much smaller and silvery grey, and thus called grey ghost. The females get no name of such mystery. Red power.Read More
Sometimes crummy things happen to special things, people, or places. I guess that’s just how it goes. “It’s just the cycle of life,” a former co-worker used to like to muse.
IS that true? Do you think? What is valuable? What is not? Who decides? What is morality and what is truth? What is crummy?
All around we see 'evidence' that people can't share. Many pundits and politicians would have us believe this. It's a false belief that allows us to be divided and conquered, surrendering our nature to be sovereign caretakers of Earth.Read More
Child of the 80s, that's what I am. I did half of the 70s, and then the 80s took me right up to the teen years. So, forgive me when I hum certain lyrics in certain situations.
I would certainly rather have some sage Buddhist wisdom come first.Read More
Though this place looks so wild, in some ways, it has been deeply touched and used. The trees are old, yet not that old. Stone rows run through the forest. Sharply angled limbs reveal where forest was once clear fields.Read More
Sending love up and down the East Coast.
Bombogenesis? An article on the website of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, my source for weather, says, "Bombogenesis is a popular term that describes a midlatitude cyclone that rapidly intensifies."
Popular? I have never even heard of the word bombogensis.Read More
So, an introductory story, I had nothing. I usually turn an upcoming talk's topic over in my head again and again. I think of related stories and experiences. I think about painting images of places, of people, of plants, because my talks are about wild plants and people.Read More
I have been lucky to find mentors throughout my life. Photography. Art. Education. Nature. Mothering. I am lucky they found me. Being a mentor is a risk, I suppose, like any relationship. Mentors and guides give their time and share their knowledge.Read More
The music outside is birdsong. The days are lengthening and the birds know it. I hear cardinal, chickadee, nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, song sparrow, Carolina wren, red-bellied woodpecker. I am restored.Read More
Rachel Mackow is a photographer and writer who resides on a ridge in the New Jersey Highlands with her husband and son.
Search through my modern chicken scratch:
I'm a writer and photographer, observer and keeper of memories in this space, The Shagbark Speaks. In the other spaces of my life, which take most of my time, I am a wife, mother, native plant grower & natural lands restoration practitioner, and laundress.