Thursday, July 26, 2018

buck(thorns), does and fawns

Yesterday, just before the rains came, we were on our way to check whether a tree behind the house was black cherry or buckthorn. Key determinant: black cherry fruit has one pit. Buckthorn has 3-4 seeds (common) or 2-3 seeds (glossy). Today we went to resolve the competing identifications. We are not happy with the results. See for yourself.

seeds of three, buckthorn it be
seeds of three, buckthorn it be
Photo by J. Harrington

And, a more careful examination of the glossy(?) buckthorn leaves, compared to the more pointed and thinner black cherry leaves below, makes it clear we were engaged in wishful thinking more than anything else.

long and lean black-cherry leaves for comparison
long and lean black-cherry leaves for comparison
Photo by J. Harrington


whitetail doe feeding on pear tree
whitetail doe feeding on pear tree
Photo by J. Harrington

Despite that setback, all is not gloom and doom around here. This morning a whitetail doe returned to feast on the pear tree and brought junior to check out the neighborhood. Few things are more fun than watching a fawn find its way about its world. (Puppies come to mind.) Meanwhile, we're thinking "if we had paid more attention a quarter century ago, the buckthorn tree would not..." Ah, well! This turns out to be just the opposite of "The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now!" The best time to cut down a buckthorn tree is...soon!


whitetail fawn ignoring mom at pear tree
whitetail fawn ignoring mom at pear tree
Photo by J. Harrington















Fawn



Out of a high meadow where flowers
bloom above cloud, come down;
pursue me with reasons for smiling without malice.

Bring mimic pride like that of the seedling fir,
surprise in the perfect leg-stems
and queries unstirred by recognition or fear
pooled in the deep eyes.

Come down by regions where rocks
lift through the hot haze of pain;
down landscapes darkened, crossed
by the rift of death-shock; place print
of a neat hoof on trampled ground
where not one leaf or root
remains unbitten; but come down
always, accompany me to the morass
of the decaying mind. There
we’ll share one rotted stump between us.


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Please be kind to each other while you can.

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