Archive for the ‘a moment of beautiful’ Category
a moment of beautiful – ice windows on woodland pools
the space: pools of water in the Grey Woods
the beautiful: patterns in the thin ice
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While we wait for a lasting snow in New Brunswick, ice defines the season. On every pool of standing water, ice-windows have formed. I love the patterns these make against the amber-colored water! These are photos of ice windows taken last spring, after the snow had gone.
Copyright 2013 Jane Tims
a moment of beautiful – an ice lantern
the space: our living room on a winter evening
the beautiful: an ice lantern with cranberries and periwinkle vine
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As Christmas approaches, candles are among my favorite decorations. For the past few years, I have made ice lanterns (also called ice candles).
I use a square plastic container that freezes well. In the center, I place a paper cup weighed down with rocks. Then I fill the outer ring with cranberries and greenery (this year I used the green vines of Periwinkle, Vinca minor, from our garden). Then I fill the ring with water.
This goes in the freezer, or in colder weather, out on the porch. Once the water has frozen, I put hot water in the paper cup, to free it from the ice. Then I run cold water over the outside of the bigger container to free the ice lantern. I light a tealight or flat candle and put it in the center space.
The shimmering ice lantern will last several hours. These lanterns will also last a long time outside in cold weather.
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Jane Tims 2013
a moment of beautiful – through a stained glass window
the space: the big maple outside our front door
the beautiful: seeing a squirrel in the tree through the stained glass window in our stairwell
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As I was working at my desk, my husband called to me. Through our stained glass window, he could see a silhouette of our grey squirrel. I’m glad the squirrel waited long enough for me to snap his picture!
Can you see the squirrel through the stained glass?
© Jane Tims 2013
a moment of beautiful – icicles
the space: drip line of a house on a winter day
the beautiful: icicles
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On the day after an increase in temperature, when the snow from the roof is melting, the front of our house, on the south side and in full sun, is always dripping and making icicles.
They glitter and sparkle, sculptural wonders of frozen water.
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ice storm
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for three days
freezing rain and willow
have hung uncertain magic
along the river
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ice in layers
laid on the bones
of the tree tops, branches break
candy-coats crack in the sun
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I refuse the sparkle
resist the awe
worry
the bones will not recover
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© Jane Tims 2009
a moment of beautiful – November leaves
the space: the November sky
the beautiful: oak leaves, not yet fallen
The oak is one of the last trees to give up its leaves in autumn.
I love the look of oak leaves against the sky. Individually, their deeply lobed pattern is striking. As a group, the leaves make a kind of randomly tatted lace.
These leaves are a frail, ineffective barrier to rain and snow, but to me, they are a statement of defiance against the coming winter.
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password
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my palm
and its splayed fingers
against the glass
defy the cold
demand the secret word
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the way the oaks construct
tattered shelters against
November chill, cling to
their leaves, whisper
misinformation
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
a moment of beautiful – sunset over the St. John River
the space: the St. John River at dusk
the beautiful: sunset over the river
Last evening as we drove home after a visit to my sister’s home, orange was on my mind. I was thinking of the bright orange pumpkins in the gardens, the orange of Japanese Lanterns, the orange of the turning leaves, and the orange of the running lights on the trucks on the highway. Then, as the sun went down, we were treated to the most beautiful orange, the color of the sunset over the St. John River.
A lovely introduction to the month of October……………..
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hauling sun
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eighteen-wheeled tractor pulls,
hauls the loaded b-train
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gears down for the grade, snags
light from the sunset, wanes
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and leaks from the headlamps
pushed forward into night
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ahead, on the dark road,
a cone of borrowed light
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012
a moment of beautiful – old-fashioned flowers
the space: the side of a cottage in the late summer sun
the beautiful: a riot of Golden Glow, leaning against the wall
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Last week, on a drive along the South Branch of the Oromocto River, I noticed the fall flowers have taken over from the summer species. The fields are filled with Goldenrod (Solidago spp.) and the ditches with Pearly Everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea (L.) C.B. Clarke). In some of the yards were three flowers I think of as ‘old fashioned’ – French Marigolds (Tagetes patula L.), Hollyhock (Alcea spp.), and Golden Glow (Rudbeckia laciniata (L.) var. Hortensia). I love the orange of the Marigolds, the papery pinks and purples of the Hollyhock, and how the Golden Glow leans!
These plants were my first introduction to the concepts of ‘annual’, ‘biennial’ and ‘perennial’. The French Marigold was an annual, and grew only for a single year. The Hollyhock was a biennial (although some are weak perennials), living a year without flowers and then blooming in the second year. The Golden Glow came up year after year without benefit of seeds or fuss, a perennial.
I remember helping my Mom collect seeds so she would always have the Hollyhocks and French Marigolds. If I close my eyes, I can see my hand holding the pointy black French Marigold seeds and the flat Hollyhock seeds with their furry edges.
When we first built our house, I was anxious to have these plants in my garden, but after blooming for a few years at the edge of the house, the Golden Glow died out, and I could never get Hollyhocks to flower. Both need lots of sun and we have only shade to offer. I often grow French Marigolds. I still have the seeds I collected from our first garden here, stuffed in an old metal seed box. I doubt they are still viable, but when I open the box, I see the seeds of the Marigolds that bloomed here 32 years ago!
The seeds I collected from our first garden of Marigolds in 1980… they are kept in an antique box marked ‘St. Albans England – Ryders Seed – D.P.’ Ryders was a seed company operated in England beginning in the 1890s. It sold seed in ‘penny packets’ to be affordable for everyone.
What are your favorite ‘old-fashioned’ flowers and do you see them much anymore?
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Pearly Everlasting
Anaphalis margaritacea L.
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Pearly Everlasting
sign of summer’s passing
yet – immortelle
picked by the road
by the armload
hung from rafters
children’s laughter
runs beneath
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downy leaf, wooly stem
white diadem
perfectly matched flowers
thatched in gold
dry and old
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Linnaeus named
for Marguarite
memory sweet
paper petals keep
pale perfume
summer grace
in a winter room
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Published as: ‘Pearly Everlasting’, The Antingonish Review 92, 1993
Copyright Jane Tims 2012
a moment of beautiful – bug-shot shadows
the space: the surface of the power pole in front of our house
the beautiful: the pattern of shadow through bug-eaten leaves
The power pole in front of our house is habitat for a vine of Virginia Creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia (L.) Planch.). also known as Woodbine. I brought the vine home about thirty years ago, as a slip collected from a plant in the park beside the St. John River. Over the years, it has struggle against the winds, determined to blow it from its perch, the power company, unhappy with its use of the pole, and the lawn mower as it snips away at the horizontal tendrils.
This year, it has a new challenge to overcome. An insect has chewed the vine full of holes… probably not a severe problem for the plant.
On Friday, I caught the shadow pattern created by the bug-eaten leaves as the sun shone at the right angle for a moment… a new way to see the consequence of belonging to the food chain!
© Jane Tims 2012
a moment of beautiful – the sound of the sea
the space: a park bench by the edge of the sea
the beautiful: the sound of the breakers, sorting over cobbles on the shore
On a recent vacation to Nova Scotia, we had the time to sit and watch the breakers roll into a cove along St. Margaret’s Bay. The sight of the crashing waves was inspiring, but the sounds were unforgettable… first, the sweep and crash of the incoming waves…
then the clatter as the outgoing wave dragged at the cobbles along the shore…
My husband suffered through my recitation of a few lines of Matthew Arnold’s poignant ‘Dover Beach’, but mostly we were quiet, overwhelmed by the sound of the sea.
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greed
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jealous of its pretty
shaped and rounded stones,
the ocean mutters,
claws them back
clatters its dinner forks
over biscuits and gravy
hoards jellybeans
by the handful
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© Jane Tims 2012
a moment of beautiful – a button of moss
the space: at ground level, in the grey woods
the beautiful: a little button of moss, emerald green
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Mosses are a beautiful, enigmatic group of plants. Except for a few well-known species, they simply grow unnamed and unnoticed by most people. The beauty of the mosses, especially under the stereo-microscope, where you can see so much detail, was what attracted me to the study of botany in the first place.
We have many species of moss in our Grey Woods. I long to be able to take the time to identify every one. For now, though, I content myself with a few common names and some of my own ‘made-up’ names.
I call this little moss ‘The Button’. Wherever I find it, it seems to grow in a little cushion. Its surface is like velvet and its color is a lovely shade of lime green.
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a button to press
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resist the urge
to depress this plump of moss
firmly with a finger
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will take you up
to the first floor
where the bunchberry blooms
or the second where bracken
planks an ephemeral floor
or the 67th where leaves align
precisely with sun
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or down
to where the roots criss-cross
in confused abandon
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© Jane Tims 2012
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