Posts Tagged ‘communication’
talking trees
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trees in conversation
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they say
if trees communicate
they do so
beneath the ground
communication network
of rootlets
and mycelia
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I still listen
above ground
to the friction squeal
of trunks
rubbing together
flutter of birch bark
whisper of leaves
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I think they try
to learn my language
speak to me
of longevity, the cycle
of the story in layers
added year to year
bilingual trees
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All my best,
Jane
a moment of beautiful – shadow forest
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tree shadows, drawn on a sloped roof
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tilted shadows on snow, graphite stems, crowded trees
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pencil sketch of woodland, whim
of northern winter, slanted sun
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from the trees, truth, but the artist lies
maligns tree shape, size and colour
wind direction
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shadow trees without wild life
red squirrels and blue jays
seldom visit while light and pencil
sharpen their edge
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only phantom light in space
between sender and receiver
message warped, passed
from molecule to molecule
through lead and air
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Copyright 2015 Jane Tims
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asking for directions 5-12
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On May 15, I completed Phase 5 of my virtual bike trip through central France!
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As a life-long avoider of exercise, it is hard for me to believe I have kept this up for almost 4 months. I have cycled a total of 155 km on my stationary bike. And, although I have never been to France, I feel like I have explored the landscape of part of central France.
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Rue de l’Ocean (image from Street View)
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Believe it or not, this was the first time I actually got lost on my virtual bike trip. The Rue de l’Océan in Nieul-sur-Mer is narrow and seems to go forever, taking twists and turns. It is easy to take the wrong turn when you are moving along in Street View …
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Part of my difficulty – I asked these chickens for directions. They did their best, clucking at me. I don’t speak chicken, so I must have misunderstood, and zigged when I should have zagged …
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I also asked a fellow cyclist for directions, but he was late for his work (he carried his work tools behind him in a little cart), and in a bit of a hurry. Although he tried to point me in the right direction, I didn’t really understand his local accent …
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In the end, I found my way by following the direction of the clouds in the mackerel sky …
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Best View: Rue de l’Océan …
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This completes Phase 5 of my journey. In Phase 6, I will reach the Atlantic Ocean (Bay of Biscay) and travel across a huge bridge to the island of Ré. If you love the ocean as much as I do, stay with me and follow along on your own virtual bike!!!!
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
from the pages of an old diary – writing letters
Letter writing has become an orphan communication in our world of emails and Facebook and Tweets. But in the past, when these forms of communication did not yet exist, and long-distance phone calls were so expensive they were only used for emergencies, people kept in touch by letter.
My Mom and I wrote to one another regularly for 30 years, even after I had my ‘family calling telephone plan’. I still have all her letters and looking at her handwriting makes me feel near to her. Her words, the beautiful way she formed her letters, and the stories they tell, are concrete evidence of her life and interests and her love for her family.
My great-aunt’s diaries show she also considered letters to be an important part of her daily life. In her diaries, letters received and written were an activity she recorded regularly. The mail arrived twice per day in the community where she lived and her diaries tell they went for the mail daily.
post cards were part of the mail... this funny post card was sent to my great-aunt in 1908 when she attended nursing school
Letters from her son or daughter-in-law were recorded with tangible joy. She wrote to them regularly, approximately three times per month, and they wrote as regularly to her. She records her letters as, ‘I wrote to St. John today’ (she is referring to the place where they lived, Saint John, New Brunswick).
During World War II, letters from her son had taken on a particular importance since they signalled he was alive and well.
In 1957, perhaps the favourite letter received was from her little grand-daughter: on November 26, 1957, she wrote, ‘had a letter from b. a.’
The poem below was inspired by that letter, although I do not have the letter itself and the account is from my head.
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letter from her grand-daughter
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she watches for your
letter, your definite
hand, the dog-eared page
of a book begun, unfinished
creases in paper once folded
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as if an envelope could
revive the creak in the upstairs hall
re-clatter the spoon in an empty
jar of jam, jangle the telephone
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the trouble is, of course,
you grew, learned numbers
the difference between
‘b’ and ‘d’,developed your signature
went to war
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of course, all that
made possible this envelope, addressed
to Grabma, the stamp
licked on sideways, sweet stick-men
and baby words in pencil
pressed, float
from the page
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© Jane Tims 2012
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