Posted on by mgminer · 11 Comments

Winter Gift

It was bitter cold many days this February, colder than it’s been in many years. With many layers of clothing and a relatively warm house, I didn’t suffer too much for which I’m grateful. But prolonged cold does something to the psyche (at least mine). The dreary weather, the gloomy news reports, and the challenges always present in families left me struggling to feel hope.

One afternoon, I returned home feeling tired and discouraged. I got out of the car, put the windshield wipers up so they wouldn’t freeze to the window, and walked toward the front door. Scanning the sidewalk, as is my habit, I looked and found nature had left a gift on the front porch. I took a quick breath and thanked God. It wasn’t a bird, or even a small animal. It wasn’t a pretty feather, a smooth nut, or a colorful rock. But it was no less a delight to me.

It was fragile, but in tact. I bent to pick it up hoping it would not break apart. It was a beautiful brown cup made from 12 tulip poplar seeds on a 3-inch stem. A perfect tulip shape. We don’t have a tulip poplar tree in our yard which made this little gift brought by the wind even more precious. It cheered me to think of more colorful tulips to come, but that day, a brown one served just fine.

Thank you to all who make this writing space
a place of safety, support, and beauty.

Posted on by mgminer · 4 Comments

Name that Tree

It never ceases to amaze me that learning the name of something suddenly brings awareness of the presence of that thing all around me. It begs the question, why have I never noticed it before I knew its name?

I was visiting my daughter in Harrisonburg, VA and we were at a park with her children. I noticed the lovely shape of a very tall tree and the interesting branching pattern it had. I loved how so many branches broke free from the trunk at close intervals, and how all the branches seemed to be reaching up, raising their arms together. I also noticed how beautifully symmetrical it was, but I didn’t know it’s name. After some research, I learned that it was called a Dawn Redwood. What a lovely name. Redwoods in Virginia! You can learn more about them here. I spent some time just enjoying the tree until grandchildren called, “Grandma, watch me!”

Later, while driving through my home neighborhood, I spotted the same beautiful shape and wondered how I had never noticed it before in the 50+ years I’ve lived here. Then, driving to my piano lesson, there was another, so tall and majestic! And again, driving to my sister’s, I spotted another. They’ve been all around me forever, but I hadn’t been aware. Now, when I see these dawn redwoods, I feel that they are my secret trees. Now they are mine because I know their name. There’s a metaphor here, I’m sure, but I’ll let you ponder that for yourself.

In winter, the silhouette of the dawn redwood is a gently rounded cone that looks soft next to the craggy sycamores, maples, and oaks. Somehow, I find its symmetry soothing on these cold January days.

Dawn Redwood at dusk, Vienna, VA 1/28/25
Posted on by mgminer · 3 Comments

A Turn

If you know me, you know I am a sensitive person. I feel things deeply and strongly. Many days that makes life hard for me. Over the last 40 years, I have worked hard to manage the part of me that tends toward depression and sadness. The doctor called it different names over the years–endogenous depression, pervasive depressive disorder, and more recently, dysthymia. If you look those up, you’ll see that it’s no fun.

I no longer feel as much guilt about it as I used to, but there are days when I can really relate to the shriveled apple forgotten in the fruit bowl, or the bruised banana, better for making bread than eating. Today was one of those days. I just couldn’t “grateful” my way out of the funk, or get up enough energy to enjoy the bright beautiful sunshine. It was a lovely spring day, and I pretty much missed it.

Until…I headed to the store to get what we needed (including a cookie).

As the daylight was fading, the sky changed to many shades of pink, pink with a warm yellow tinge. I stopped at the traffic light where a tulip magnolia was in full bloom. This tree shouted spring. I noticed an elderly lady had stopped with her walker. She was gazing up into the purple, pink, and white blooms taking a picture. She seemed to take a long time with her frail arms stretched up into the blossoms. Since she had her walker near, I hoped that she would stay steady on her feet.

Just the sight of this small woman taking the time to pause at such beauty reminded me that life is good. My depressive day turned toward the light after all.

Photo: CREATIV STUDIO HEINEMANN/GETTY IMAGES
Thank you to all who make this writing space
a place of safety, support, and beauty.
Posted on by mgminer · 3 Comments

Under the Linden Tree

There are lots of reasons why I love Linden Trees. I started to notice them more than 45 years ago when we studied Walther von der Vogelweide’s (c. 1170-1230) famous poem called “Under the Lindens” in my German Literature class. I always smiled when saying this poet’s name. It sounded like music–the word connotes a pastoral scene with bird song. Walther was from a beautiful place, or so I imagined.

His is a love poem which paints a picture of young lovers meeting under the linden tree where flowers and grasses witnessed a thousand kisses and were known to no one but a tiny little bird. Such romance never grows old.

Later while visiting Berlin, I learned of the famous lindens that line the streets of that city. All throughout Europe, the linden is loved for its heart-shaped leaves, its ability to attract bees for honey making, its wood for carving, and its medicinal properties. You can read more here.

But this morning, under an early summer blue sky, I loved the linden once again for its lovely fragrance and its pleasing silhouette. The way its flowers connect to the tree so delicately. I wished to linger near and sit under its shade.