Poem 20 And 21: Goodbye to Summer. Fly Well, Fly Safe.

It is the equinox, the official end of long summer days. It is thought that this rather than any change of temperature is the way the migrating birds know they must leave for Africa’s warmth and food. The swifts usually go in August but house martins often have a second brood and will leave as late as September. The bee-eaters gather together too around this time. At Navasola there have been storms so perhaps some are still waiting to go. Here are two poems to two of Navasola’s summer visitors. One who has become a character in my novel and this drawing of him by my artist friend Ruth. His name is Abe Apio and he flies north in a quest to find a cooler place for a Navaselva buff-tailed bumblebee.

By Ruth Koenigsberger

Abe Apio the bee-eater of my dreams.

Abe Apio you never leave me

Your brightness stirs my words

As your story moves me to write

Of your struggle to save

Not just bees.

Red rump swallow recovering from being stunned and ready to fly off.

You Can Not Keep a Swallow in a Zoo

This child delights in her own toy zoo,

A gorilla and tiger stalking through

A mat of savannah tufted strands.

A plastic fence surrounds a zebra.

A lion lies down with a flamingo.

The sun beats through a round bay window

Of a neat corner house with stained glass

Swallows at the front door and on the wall.

All this made the warmth of summer kind

In a chilly northern seaside town.

And this child did not know

What she knows now.

You can not keep a swallow in a zoo.

Now she counts the swallows as so few fly by.

The ones with red rump feathers preened

Prefer these southern lands with barns,

And ruins of long ago times,

Where with martins and swifts.

Built nests under old tiled roofs.

With holes and  a rural disregard

For cleanliness that bleaches bare all life.

We thought some swallows might adorn our porch

But one hit a window and took a time

To fly again high enough to see

The windows of heaven

Where the ark is waiting.

Each poem conforms to my challenge to write 26 poems for the 26 miles of the London marathon which was not run this year and many charities have lost vital funds. A poem will either have 26 words and be haiku inspired or 26 lines. Each poem will be about different species found around Navasola.

My charity is the Royal Society for Protection of Birds and  their links with Birdlife International. Please help them help the birds that know no borders. Much work has gone on to protect habitats and raise awareness of the importance of birds to the balance of nature. The decline in bird numbers and in particular swallows is worrying.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

Poem 19. A Socially distanced hoopoe. Poetry challenge of 26 poems for Nature.

Hoopoe visiting Navasola in Autumn

Abubilla in Spanish, Upupa epops in Latin.

 

 

 So much is changing and Autumn is upon us again. This hoopoe visited close to the Navasola house last Autumn. Where has the year gone? Usually with lots of activity, things to do and most important people to see and be with. I am trying to catch up with that at the moment amidst covid anxieties and rules for ever changing. Perhaps we need to be wary like the wild ones are. This hoopoe stayed for a while and I enjoyed the time spent together but at a discreet distance and ‘glass’ barrier! I have been thinking of a collection of poems with ‘Sitting on a porch’ observations. But there are also quite a few from looking out of my writing sanctuary window. Rain should also be due next week in our Sierra and most welcome after fires raged south of us for days in the Almonaster region of Huelva.

 

From Through the Window Poems.

The Visit of the Hoopoe

I see you.

Through the window.

I do not usually see you.

Among the many resident birds.

And those that stay for summer.

You prefer the pines and grasslands.

 

Not out of the blue but into the green

You arrive to seek to survive

Flash of chestnut, almost unseen

By the wet rocks and moss

Your long beak, slender fills with life

Tiny ants, flitting flies, wriggling worms

Ready to die to give strength to you.

Beneath the Autumn mulch, much squirms

Through the window our eyes follow

Your chestnut feathers, black white bars

A round eye looking, a crown on head

To show you are one of nature’s stars.

You stop to look,to listen hard, to us perhaps?

Trying not to disturb your path through grass

We stumble to remember your elegant steps,

We must focus on and zoom through glass.

 

Unseen, a barrier between us and the wild that visit

A bird on a journey to a better place

A sudden encounter so camera not ready

But still we draw in so close to your eyes.

I have not yet reached my target. Please help me help nature in these uncertain and challenging times.

 

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

Poem 17: Chestnuts and Cleaning Up; 26 poem challenge

Pollarded old chestnuts supply lots of fallen branches.

This poem is a reflection on our very old chestnut tree orchards and the need to ‘clean’ up between the spaced trees. For many years I have left lots of areas to just grow and little chestnut forests abound. A well spaced orchard is in contrast to the way trees grow in a wild forest. As always thanks to Dverse poets who rekindled my muse some years ago. There are always good poems to discover there and inspiring prompts. https://dversepoets.com

 

 

An abandoned and ancient chestnut

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chestnut Orchards and Wild Forest

How does the ancient chestnut feel, on its own,

Without its young growing up around it?

For centuries, it keeps on trying to not die alone.

Trees planted out at even spaces in the wrong places.

In between  too much light not shade

For the new chestnuts to be made.

The trees own sweet fruit must delve down deep

And grow the root, the stem, the leaf.

But the young are cursed and must be cleaned

For never will it grow the fruit we want to eat.

Old chestnut trees in the Sierra Aracena

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wild now grows between those planted trees,

Unkempt, unruly, a wide variety of lives

Breathing, green but dirty children

For  here  wild abandon thrives,

Tall thin pine, brushed thick ivy vine,

Arbutus Unedo with red fruit, wild glow

Light metal viburnum berries, turpentine

And thin young chestnuts take their time.

Tree time and the old ones no longer weep

As they feel the roots  meet up in the deep.

Jungle with thorns on finca

 

 

 

 

 

 

To call the land dirty when it is full of green

‘Su ci o*’ may  sound sweeter to the ear

Than the one that rings with unclean

And all the range of life we love to ‘lim pi o’*

 

Forgive us trees as we do not know

How to live and how to grow.

Chestnut flowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am slowing down on the 26 poems so might need to speed up. There is always plenty to write about at Navasola and plenty to do! The heat is in abeyance and has gone to London where it is hotter than Seville. Trees could be our saviours in this climate race to the hottest places, especially the oldest ones. But with threats in the Amazon again of worse fires and the proposed destruction in India of an ancient forest in order to mine poor grade  coal ahttps://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/aug/08/india-prime-minister-narendra-modi-plans-to-fell-ancient-forest-to-create-40-new-coal-field

And of course in the U.K. ancient trees are felled for the HS2 train link which will cut a journey time by half an hour but destroy some of the little ancient woodland we have left here.

We must be hopeful and active in this struggle for the heart of nature. Please help a nature charity  by sponsoring my challenge and it will keep me going!

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

 

* sucio is Spanish for ‘dirty’ and wild, abandoned areas are referred to by this word. Limpio is the word for clean. And so instead of clearing as we do in English we clean the land. In reality we destroy a lot of habitats for our attempts at farming.

 

Reforestation needed, old chestnut trees in abandoned woods

Poem 18: I Will Never Beat the Bracken; A memory of April 2020 Spanish lockdown.

 

Wild Flower meadow

This poem is based on my April lockdown experience  in ‘splendid isolation’ at Navasola in Southern Spain and working outside close to nature.  I also wrote poetry and responded to a poetry competition on ‘Winning’. I didn’t expect to win but it was worth penning this poem. I have adapted it to my form of 26 lines for my 26 poem poetry challenge.

Here it is for Open Link Night at https://dversepoets.com/. Linda  presents this  prompt with the reminder that this was the day the Rolling Stones released their single ‘I Can’t Get No Satisfaction’ in 1965. Great memories!

‘You can’t always get what you want,but if you try, sometimes, you might find, you get what you need’ The Rolling Stones

I thought I wanted wild flower meadows instead of tall bracken but I got much needed exercise and distraction from pandemic anxieties!

 

I will never beat the bracken. 

The bracken has grown taller than me in just two days.

It seems that now my role in life is to beat this thing,

That leaves little space for wild flowers to grow.

A man fangled machine, at first, refuses to start.

Will I ever beat the bracken back with just a scythe.

A spluttered choke and I begin but will not win

Against the roots that run so deep within

Wet, red, leaf littered soil where chestnuts grow

So well, till drought dries out, and then

Another battle begins.

Who wins when no rain falls?

 

I control the blade

To not cut down in prime of life,

Stars of Bethlehem and Solomon’s Seal

Along this track to some forgotten Calvary

Where nature is the sacrifice.

When I retire at close of day,

I know who will return.

The owl for sure as now the way is clear

To kill the mouse with no shelter near.

The spanish robin too, just like our own

Keeps an eye on what is now laid bare.

The wild boar will come and plough

Without the thorny bramble there.

 

With these thoughts I win acclaim

But lose the game.

 

Star of Bethlehem

 

 

 

 

 

 

I did not want to be so far from family during the lockdown but there was little choice so I enjoyed the time spent working outside  and trying to cut back bracken and brambles in order to have some fire plan in a wild and overgrown valley.  In my head I wanted to protect old chestnut trees and the house, but I did not want to cut any flowers already growing as these would help in creating a wild flower meadow. Clearing bracken and brambles  makes it easier to pick the chestnuts that fall in late October.

Wild solomon’s seal

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some win and some lose in this conservation game.

The link to sponsor my poetry challenge is on the previous post if you would like to donate to conservation charities that help restore nature.

 

 

Poem 16: The Madroño Tree and the Two Tail Pasha; 26 Poem Challenge.

Greetings to all and to Dverse Poets on their 8th anniversary. Am linking this to open link night with Mish; https://dversepoets.com/   And really pleased to find Earthweal and their challenges with a nature focus; https://earthweal.com/

Life coming out of lockdown in Spain has been interesting and busy in many ways as we can now decide to go out more and visit friends and family.  Some normality but also it is very strange and strained too. We hope all is going well for so many of you in many different places.

There has also been more work to do on the finca as we finally been able to have help from others. There have been some blessings in our retreat from society but  sadness too as we are personally  touched by loss and at another loss as we watch and read too much incompetent managing of a health crisis.

.This poem on my 26 poem challenge is structured around my form of 26 lines, 12 for the tree and 12 for the butterfly and two finishing lines to comment on both. It is based on our experience of having to cut back some trees from the house and knowledge of butterfly habitats and the plants and trees they need.

The Madroño Tree and the Two Tail Pasha

Arbutus Unedo, Strawberry tree, Madroño

Today is trim time for trees

But not scissor light snips

More motor power and deep cuts

Ear muffs on for heavy chain whirs

If you could only keep your fine fans

Of branches away from our earth tiled roof

I would not feel the hurt of habitat loss

The screams of the leaves as they dash

Against the cool cement white rendered walls

The birds will not be pleased

Nor the butterfly that some call

The foxy emperor or Pasha.

 

 

Two Tail Pasha, Charaxes jasius, El Baja or Cuatro Colas. ( 4 tails!)

Here you must lay your eggs

To hatch into the worm with two horns.

 

 

 

How do you know this tree is best?

You do not need a nest

To carefully care as each of yours

Must hatch alone. Make its own munch

Through tough leaves.

Tough lives taken at the point of a beak

Or hang cocooned for days

Till horns transform, two tails of wings emerge.

So bright, so fair, move me to gasp

At change so rare.

 

From dark places, burst leaves, break wings.

Reach out for life, lived briefly, in the light.

 

Two tailed pasha

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As for the ongoing climate crisis my poetry challenge is to help conservation charities restore nature and prevent biodiversity loss. We must have more trees and wild places. It will help us too.

I know there are a lot of struggling charities at the moment but if you can support my efforts I and theRSPB/BirdLife International would be grateful. I am halfway through now and every little helps me write more!

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

 

Poem 15. The Pond and a Shining Moment. 26 poem challenge.

This is a poem about our pond which took a long time to create but now gives a lot of joy and a habitat for many and drinking water for the birds and bees. It is also inspired by Lilian’s haibun prompt for Dverse poets and for open link night. Hope all Dverse poets have a good summer break and a Happy Anniversary for July 13 th. Thanks for all the inspiration.

The haibun form consists of 3 short authentic paragraphs, not fiction and completed with a haiku. Lilian gives some interesting advice on using a kiku , a nature/ time/ season key word, followed by an insight. https://dversepoets.com/2020/06/22/traditional-writing-on-a-shining-topic/

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Pond and a Shining Moment

The thin walls of the old house crumbled as the digger gently pushed. Stronger wider ones needed to be built to hold up a new roof. The man with the digger was only hired for two days but he was willing to dig out a hole for a pond for an extra 80 euros. We jumped at the offer. We wanted a wildlife pond. There was no running stream here, all the water was underground, sinking fast through sandy soil in the torrential rains after months of Mediterranean drought. The pond was excavated and then I decided to dig, deeper and wider and bring wheelbarrows full of good deep soil to my new vegetable plot up the hill. An open air muscle building gym.

The pond was downhill but became an uphill struggle. For two years it filled with rain water and the second year was so full and overflowing in May but by September was drained and the lining destroyed. Wild boar had one too many mud baths with tusk marks slashed through plastic. A new plan was devised of a boarproof fence, similar to the one around my vegetable garden. There was also so much wild plum growing that without removal this area would become a dense thicket. We worked to clear and have been rewarded with a meadow of wild flowers and the beginnings of more life in the pond with its now very expensive aquatic liner. We hoped for the croak of frogs.

His joy this lockdown spring has been to walk down from the house to the pond. His walk now is slower, unsteady. A virus, some years back, perhaps produced this change. Or so the experts say, but they do not really know. Once able to walk far and work on our new roof, now, he struggles to walk any distance. But the pond beckons, and with binoculars and a fence to lean on, he looks intently around. First he spotted one frog and then another. They seemed to be keeping their distance. At last shining, shimmering in the light, perfectly camouflaged with their dark green back stripe, they have their moment, and we have ours.

Light falls on Lily
Bees buzz: slippery limbs
Entwine hold hope tight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will include this in my 26 poetry poem as a habitat for a variety of species including the Iberian frog, plenty of pond skaters, beetles, a lily and other water plants, reeds, dragonflies and lots of bees. The pond has attracted the birds for water and baths, including a flycatcher or papamoscas in Spanish. Around the pond there is now a real variety of many wild flowers.

Thanks again to Dverse poets who reignited my love of writing and playing with poetry.

I am half way through my challenge and half way to my charity target. Please follow the Just giving link if you would like to sponsor me on behalf of a wildlife, nature charity. The RSPB and Birdlife International.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blogs

26 Poem Challenge. Wings in the Woods. Poems 10 to 14

There are brown birds, blackbirds, multicoloured birds, white birds. Sometimes it is the brown birds that are easily overlooked, not colourful enough. But when you look closely, the browns are so varied and so beautifully marked, full of different tones and hues, perfectly adapted to their life in the woods.

This post is in memory of George Floyd who can no longer be with us to hear the winged creatures of our wounded world. May he be at rest and his family find solace in God, friendships, the beauty of nature and justice.

And there is a link to an article that I found very moving published in Sierra Club,an old established American conservation organisation. We have to understand and act against the kinds of thinking that allows our natural world to be destroyed and for many brown and black lives to not matter throughout the world.
https://www.sierraclub.org/sierra/racism-killing-planet

To the beauty of the brown bird whose name we do not know. A japanese style painting by Ruth Koenigsberger.

 

These are poems about some of our local birds seen from our porch. All woodland birds but very wild, cautious, shy perhaps and not easy to photo. The serin stayed just long enough balanced on a thin stem of wild cress that was left on our ‘lawn’ for pollinators to enjoy. And they did gather. We wish we saw more but we hear them and then they hide if we start to look for them. Wild birds do not seem to like eyes staring at them.

 

 

On Not seeing the birds for the trees
Somewhere in the woods
Behind a branch, beyond our gaze.
Birds are heard
If you dare to fix your eyes
Let the leaves dazzle your days.

 

10. Blue Tit or Herrerillo in Spanish, Parus caeruleus in latin

What’s in a name?
A titter or two?
But not in Spain
Where more rare
the tiny herrerillo
Is a sight to see.
To paint perhaps.

Blue tit by Ruth Koenigsberger

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11. Redstart, Colirojo real in Spanish, Phoenicurus phoenicurus in latin
N
ot seen for so long
You fly into our life for water.

Fresh feathers feel cleansed.

Dash of red dips and dives.

Stay a moment more.

 

12. Goldfinch,  Jilguero in Spanish, Carduelis carduelis in latin
Gilded gloss on olive trunk
I see you for the first time.
Once you lived in pines
B graves of the long dead
In a far off place.

 

13. Firecrest, Reyezuelo in Spanish, Regulus ignicapilus in latin
Slow flight up each branch
Of the young cork you dart
Looking for something
That you will find
And I will not.

 

14. Serin, Verdecillo in Spanish Serinus serinus in latin
Hello, who are you?
Upon the fine stem
How do you pose,
unswaying, long enough?
Camera shaken, book taken
To discover the name
You already knew.

Serin on cress

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you would like to sponsor me on this 26 poem challenge the link is below and on the previous poems too. These poems are all written in my 26 word format. This time more freestyle than haiku and other Japanese forms with certain syllables to each line.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

26 Poems. Poem 9. Vultures thrive in Andalucian Skies

 

 

 

 

 

Vultures

My first encounter with this most alarming bird

Was from a rickshaw, bald heads gathering around a corpse

A photo taken, a memory forgotten, no remorse

Until those eyes met mine and I finally heard.

Perfectly poised to penetrate death

A holy land where human harm leaves only dog

To scavenge the remains of a very manmade mess

The vultures gone to save the sacred cows distress

Slow painful death by inner unknown toxic smog.

Perfectly poisoned by human kind

And then a vulture of a different kind arose

Above the canyons of an ancient world made new

Condors with wingspans lifting in the thermal flows

Photos to remind us that now they too are few.

Perfect flight, sight, smell to search out death

Within a classroom Africa’s vultures I undermine.

Love of a feathered mate counts the human cost

To pass exams, context, effect, unthread that line

Where one key word shouts out what has been lost.

Perfect partners raising young

Here, the vultures rise again in Spanish skies

Mostly griffon with pointed feathered wings

Black, maybe, if really large, the vulture kings

Alive, hanging on that human thread that tries.

Love protecting life

>

This poem is about my own encounters with vultures, from my early years in India, where I took many sights for granted as vultures were so common then and such perfect scavengers. In my middle years I had a wonderful trip with my daughters to Peru where we saw condors in the Colca Canyon. In my teaching years the poem Vultures by Chinua Achebe would haunt me, not because of the vultures but because of the concentration camp name which none of our students had heard of. English lessons then would become history lessons too.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vultures_(poem)

Vultures are endangered and face many threats, electrocution, poisoning, loss of habitat, and in India because there was no awareness why the vulture population was dying off until the link bewtween drugs given to sacred cows was found to be lethal for vultures.

Here in our Andalucian skies we can see vultures above our house. Some may be the very endangered black vultures from the Aroche colony, or more likely the griffon vultures, which from one of the links seems to suggest there has been some conservation success because of the joint efforts of different groups and laws to protect these amazing birds.

https://www.4vultures.org/2019/01/29/a-2018-survey-of-griffon-vultures-in-andaluc%C3%ADa-reveals-the-population-continues-to-grow-across-the-region/

The poem has been constructed according to my 26 poem challenge for the conservation charity the RSPB who also support Birdlife International. There are 26 lines but the italicised lines are also 26 words in praise of the important place vultures have in nature and in human lives. The feral dogs in India that have moved in to take over the place of vultures are more dangerous to humans than vultures have ever been.

If you wish to donate to my challenge the link is below.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

26 Poems for nature. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, In Deep Communion with Nature’s Spring Flowers

Here are the latest poems for my 26 poem challenge to cover 26 different species found at Navasola in Southern Spain. These particular wild flowers are now fading as their time for flowering is over and a new wave of wild spring flowers have arrived. In nature so much seems transient but all the flowers have been waiting and preparing for their moments of glory all through the year or longer. They have been in long preparation to ensure their species survive.

And so I have a rather religious or spiritual link for them all. Some inspiration comes from the candle like shapes as in Jewish tradition and symbols for the creation story and the very special day of rest.  The common names of some of the flowers  provide  links to God and the bible too. All these flowers are such incredibly evolved species in their own right and show the wonder of nature or God’s creation.

Comments on the ‘form’ of poetry I am trying to create are at the end.

 

4. Tassel Hyacinth 
You capture light with blue
Radiating calm, candles curved
Upward to a lost God
We searched for in dark places
You found in your seed’s desire.

p-3-tassel-hyacinth-r.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. Star of Bethlehem
Each pointed point prepares
The Way from birth to Heaven
White beauty shines bright
A flower’s time is but a breath
Of hope above our Earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

6. Solomon’s Seal
Did all on earth agree
To learn the ways of the wise
Praise the life of Spring
With heads hung low
Close to the living earth?

 

 

 

 

 

 

7. The Wild Peony
I wrote about you once
Your wild genes, your pink beauty,
Ready to receive
So many into your pollen filled heart
There is nectar for all.

peoni broteri

 

 

 

 

 

 

8. The Palmate Anenome
Once I drew your curves
To find my hesitant lines
Gave me silent joy.
Your flower held high
By stronger forces than I could ever know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The form of these poems is a mix of haiku extended into my own 26 word form. I begin with the pattern of haiku of 17 syllables or words and then put in the extra to make up 26 words. Although short it still takes time for the poem to evolve and to be a tribute to each flower as well as any other meaning.

I have been thinking about different approaches to writing poetry and in particular as to what makes a poem and what also makes a good poem,  and when is a poem finished. I wished to go back and change some words on the last poem haiku at the end, I wanted the more evocative kiss rather than love .

How do poems make us feel something differently, a new perspective perhaps is important, a new way of looking at our world, and for me ‘The sound must echo the sense’ from TS Eliot. I like a lyrical feel but think I must try a different approach soon and some humour! Well, TS Eliot ranged from The Four Quartets to Cats.

If you wish to sponsor me in this challenge here is the link.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

26 Poems. Poem 3 The Hawthorn Tree

Here is poem no 3 of my charity challenge and with thanks and links to Dverse poets that inspired my poetry path and gave knowledge of many different forms of poetry. The prompt is open link  night but will be interesting as there is the idea to share about our lives and what we may depend on in this crisis. There is also a beautiful Mary Oliver poem on their post. Their link is below.

www.dversepoets.com

This is my attempt at a haibun. A Japanese form of descriptive prose ending with a haiku. My format for my challenge is 26 lines. Please don’t count! There were 26 in pages. Word press changes too much for me when writing lines! It describes my conservation dilemmas and good fortune to be outside in our woodland home where we are both well but the sadness of others loss is real and close. Stay safe, protect your health workers and protect the natural world so much depends on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Haibun Prose  Poem In Honour of Hawthorn Trees on whose lives so much depends.

The hawthorn tree stands near our Navasola house. It is rooted within the granite rocks of a ridge along the eastern valley slopes and must be decades old, young in comparison to the century old chestnuts and olives but wild and has freely chosen its niche. I once sat beneath it, in its shade to meditate. I heard a slight fluttering and dared to leave the peace inside to look out and see a tiny mother wren and her even tinier young spaced outa along a branch. My stillness and her quietness crossed a gap. I was in her home. The hawthorn tree is a special tree for it profits many. It may defend itself with sharp thorns but for hundreds of others it protects and nourishes while it propagates itself.

Time is being spent for me between the inside and outside of this virus ridden spring. Outside I follow the wild boar paths and become like the wild bison clearing a greater space. I hope the destruction I create will make way for the more vulnerable species that need more light, or that’s my plan, like my fire plan. I clear away a lot of life in hope of more. But I always leave the young hawthorn trees that break out amid a stranglehold of bramble and undergrowth of viburnum that becomes impenetrable canopy with woven strands of sarsaparilla. Dead bramble poles still reach up surrounding their young with protective thorns. Not much can enter, not much can grow here. My desire to protect the hawthorn seems to combine some vague awareness of its fairy connections to other worlds. In fairy and folklore, I later read it is sacred and if cut down, there will be some price to pay. So much depends on a hawthorn tree. So many species.

I was scrambling up the rocky path in a tired bramble scratched frenzy and a spiky branch was in my way, in my face, on my path. I was about to chop. I stared, not recognising the blossom heavy branch, each flower packed with deep vibrant pink.

This was the first time ever I saw so close the hawthorn flower, with its anther caps on, waiting for the right time to dust the insects, blow the pollen to the wind, and then look worn out, brown and wispy thin.

Storm clouds dark spring skies

My eyes caress your burst buds

Pink lips love propose.

 

 

This link shows some close up photography of hawthorns and was the closest I got to understanding what may be happening with those sexy lipped anthers. Hawthorns are also known for herbal remedies that improve the functioning of the heart!

Hawthorn. http://www.microscopy-uk.org.uk/mag/indexmag.html?http://www.microscopy-uk.org.uk/mag/artapr08/bj-hawthorn.html

The other link is for anyone who would like to sponsor me writing 26 poems for a well known nature charity, the RSPB. All charities are struggling with loss of income now so this is a small way I am encouraging myself and others to help. I also hope my poems can inspire and inform about 26 of our species here at Navasola.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

Nature needs Nurture

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