Staghorn sumac is a shrub or low tree that has flowers that are replaced with drupes, hard coated seeds with bright red hairs. Don’t they look brilliant against the ice?
Moss from a tree, or maybe a rock
I’m wanting to learn more about mosses, lichens, and algae. Right now I enjoy the bright green against clear.
Winter tree litter
Look closer at the “litter” and you’ll see needles and bits of cones from the hemlocks that surround this patch of snow. Someone has been busy: either nibbling animals and pecking birds, or the wind–or both.
A bee, caught by freezing temperatures
I thought this was another bit of plant or rock, until I took a second look.
Snow and ice are not just white, or clear; items fall to rest on them, things we wouldn’t see if they fell on dark dirt or leaves.
What do you see, when you stop to really look? When you lean in close?
A hedgerow is a marvelous thing–the edges of a field. Remnants of this year’s rows of corn are visible through the gaps. At this moment, the hedgerow is still. Sunset dapples yellow on blue snow, like the summer glow fading on ocean sand.
The hedgerow’s few trees are weighted down by grapevine and other plants so that the far view has not been impinged by thick or tall trunks. Bushes create hiding places for year-round birds as well as travelers.
There is space inside this edge, the hedge-edge, as well as on both sides.
Staghorn sumac against the sky
Dark shadowed limbs create a picture frame for the world on the other side of the hedgerow. Deer travel the dawn field; wild turkeys jut heads and flash feathers at each other. On this side, cars slide in and out; owners and dogs walk each other. Snowplows beep and scrape in the night and later, when day comes, the hedgerow’s birds flap to the feeders.
Which edges do you cherish? Which do you chafe against? What life can be found inside the edges?