In front of my house stands a great cedar. We've lived together for nearly twenty-five years. Most mornings we converse in a silent kind of speech. My hands against its trunk, I read its slow, deep pulse. And its shaggy bark feels the spread of my fingers, the breadth of my palms, the warmth of my skin. Face to face, we come to know each other. We talk about things for which there are no words, only the touch of hand and bark, the beat of blood and sap, the lifting of fronds and hair in wind. | Photo by Barry Troutman |
5 Comments
your adoring fan
8/2/2013 04:09:44 am
What a wonderful mental image your blog conjurs up. Such beautiful story telling. Must be a nice way to start your mornings. Like the photo, too.
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Deborah
8/3/2013 04:59:47 am
Proud and grateful that you're my friend. Such insight.
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Beth
8/3/2013 11:16:56 am
Linda, your words are beautiful. They describe my relationship with nature in a way I haven't been able to. Thank you! I feel at home in your blog.
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Lee Graves
8/5/2013 02:59:33 pm
I cannot imagine a more reverant way of listening to and being in nature.
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January 2014
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