We are in peak leaf season in southern West Virginia. Everywhere I look, maples, oaks, and hickories are bursting with color. I am surrounded by a visual orchestra of radiant, fleeting color and this year in particular, it means more to me than ever before.
Maybe it’s because I’m getting older or the current state of the world, but I’m finding myself seeking fellowship with the natural world in a way a younger version of me blew right past in hot pursuit of the next shiny thing.
There is a peace that arrives deep within the breast at some point in life. That isn’t to say I don’t have a lot of worry, but the peace of small things reminds me that most of what feeds my worry is just noise, just static in a world that still offers clarity if I’m willing to listen.
And now, Mary Oliver…
THE COUNTRY OF THE TREES
by Mary Oliver
There is no king in their country
and there is no queen
and there are no princes vying for power,
inventing corruption.
Just as with us many children are born
and some will live and some will die and the country
will continue.
The weather will always be important.
And there will always be room for the weak, the violets
and the bloodroot.
When it is cold they will be given blankets of leaves.
When it is hot they will be given shade.
And not out of guilt, neither for a year-end deduction
but maybe for the cheer of their colors, their
small flower faces.
They are not like us.
Some will perish to become houses or barns,
fences and bridges.
Others will endure past the counting of years.
And none will ever speak a single word of complaint,
as though language, after all,
did not work well enough, was only an early stage.
Neither do they ever have any questions to the gods–
which one is the real one, and what is the plan.
As though they have been told everything already,
and are content.
My good friend Pamela Steele has a new book out and I was happy to have my photograph from Hawks Nest featured on the cover. You can order the book here.
We made apple butter a couple of weeks ago with our neighbors down the ridge. The copper pot I’m pictured here with has been in Ross’s family for more than a hundred years. He puts three silver dollars in the bottom to help keep the apple butter from sticking (and for good luck). Photo by Honey May.
Thanks for your support and for reading. I hope you get to see some colorful leaves this week and that you make time to experience the peace of small things.
- Roger
a very favorite poem ,by mary oliver. and timely
Lovely piece - thank goodness for the beauty of nature! Love Mary Oliver too - thank you for sharing!