Aspen

 Populus tremuloides: Quaking Aspen.

A shimmer in the lace of the woods. Stark not-quite-white bark reaching tall, slender as paintbrushes. Hues of dull apple green tint the air suggesting ghosts of winter. Fruits hang in servitude. Claw shaped buds once sticky with resin crack open in silent celebration of solar rays. Catkins dust pollen generously like confectioner's sugar.

 Tribal marks in the landscape, streaking vernal pools and river bends. Songbirds take solace in the graceful, knobby arms. Powdery thin skin breathing in the sky, breathing out spring. Sturdy cracked ankles and fallen twigs. A beaver feast, beaver home. Canopy for forest flowers.

 Child of the great Willow family, traits like cousin Gilead. Pain soothing oils mark faint stains on old clothes. Bark tea sipped by Grandma, rocking in her chair in the humid twilight. Bright eyed child running wild, too wild; binds strong fomentation along a fractured wrist. Aspen whispers in April. Quakes in May. Shimmies in summer. Autumn's yellow skirt is too short.

 Trembling in visitations with breezes, shaking off nerves and fears. Warm ground holds steady. Papery hearts tickle with sound. Bitter thoughts warding off facades of humans. Innocent soils shared, enough is plenty.

 Great roots holding hands. Waters cleaned, turtles hide. Rich in history, stories of thaw, freeze, and burn. Morels play in May while ancient cultures multiply in microscopic millions. Fairies weave tapestries of mycelia and set them out to catch raindrops. Leprechauns tell jokes under thunderclouds. Fast in the wind fly cottony seeds, carrying with them a biodegradable future. Small wishes of mayflies copulate.

 Bent beauty, leaning ways, graceful unison. Spring fever cured and summer whims commence. Aspen reaches inside for strength, determining each color to paint the skyline. From all four winds of the continent, she dazzles the land. Hold her tusks as the animal of wisdom and courage. Travelling native, you quiver elegance.

White Pine Oblation

Your Magesty

I am listening.

I am at your service.

Guide me right for healing.

What lovely cones you bear,

with jewels ancient and glossy.

What fragrant sweet perfume you wear,

your needles sewn with care.

You are regal, yet humble,

a forest sorceress.

You heal and feed,

and soothe every need,

A ministree, you are.

My Queen,

I see the peace in your arms

as you stroke the winters chill

as you caress away the ills.

I feel the cure in my throat

as a tingly coat

and a balm to my every wound.

Your spell casting gaze

and owl hiding ways

I honor and offer you praise.

May I speak for you, touch for you

weave a fancy tale

for you, lead me through

the labyrinth of troubles

with your color of emerald;

a poultice on my soul.

I am listening, speak

whisper, to me through your shape,

body, sap, seeds, and needle. Roots like

lovers to rocks and branches like whirling dervishes

reaching yet bowing

floating yet steadfast

ever green yet evolving

prehistoric yet prophecy,

Commanding presence and quest,

seeker and song.

I am listening, opening, to you

My Emerald Queen.

Keying Conifers

Learning how to use a key is fun. Last week the kids in my herb class and I did this. First we learned by making a key from our selves, by dividing into two main groups to begin with. The idea is that you start with the most general, and work your way to most specific, splitting the options in to two each time (dichotomous key). First we split into boys/girls. From there we split each group up even further, until finally we could define each individual by their most absolute feature. Then we used the framework to classify two more people (the teachers of course!)

From there, we took on the world of evergreens. We put our order of questioning to work, tracking the least to most subtle details of each bough. Conifers are incredibly fascinating! And the perfect type of plant to learn to use a key from. They also make good material for a starter talk on the evolution of plant life. And it's always interesting to teach kids about 'naked seeds'.

After noting all the defining features of our green trees, we used the information to finally ID each species. We had a wonderful round table debate on the 'Blue Spruce', commonly known but not listed in my books. With a little help from our lead instructor and the Internet, we found it to be synonymous with the Colorado spruce - of which we did not have a bough.

The kids successfully ID'd at least the genus of each evergreen, in some cases they got all the way to species. Woohoo! Ok, I know the poster looks simple.... but the observational skills that get exercised in the process is a lot more noisy and fun and complicated!

The middle one is supposed to follow through to list the Norway Spruce, one of my personal favorites - the way the boughs drape along it's sides like gypsy sleeves. If you get a good blister of sap it makes wonderful salve or wound dressing. They seem to line the highways of Western Connecticut in an elegant way that buffers the otherwise preppy atmosphere.

Hopefully the kids will be examining their Yuletide tree up close this year!

New Life with Plants

Working near full time at the Wilderness school affords some interesting changes. I don't see plants as useful to just me anymore, and not just useful for food and medicine. They seem so much more broad. They span the Earth cycles they are inseparable from, and the generations they weave in and out of. The wintergreen above, we harvested a small amount of to oil and make into salve for the Friday class. It grows intertwined with the Mitchella, on a small cliff overlooking a woodland river. It's mossy and beautiful. Beyond it's fame as a medicinal herb, I now see everything around it: the plants in grows with, the south facing lilt of rock it chooses, high up near water and in a mixed wood forest. I imagine the intricacy of the soil at its roots. 

At the water's edge grow two trees I hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting up close. The profusely papery river birch makes not only a striking visual display, but superb fire tinder. My son collected a nice big bag along side his cattails, to bring to his Pioneers day on Thursdays.

This beautiful starfish leaf is that of the Liquidambar, or Sweet Gum. I can't help but hear the old song I learned as a young child about the Kookaburra, who lives in the old gum tree. (Merry merry king of the woods is he :)

There is plenty of writing on how the sweet gum sap is used. But little on how the leaf is used. As a home herbalist, I can't imagine going through the long laborious process of reducing the pitch, but I sure would like to know how I can make good use of the intensely fragrant leaves. The smell is rich and sharp, like camphor and peaches, or mint and incense. Peculiar and wonderful. A smell that makes me think of good uses, like healing skin infections or as a scalp tonic.

My favorite tree and another mystery

The Sycamore just sings to me. This one, especially.

What tree dare such earrings? A Box Elder I think.