Branches

Woke up to snow this morning: a sudden return to winter. I love the snow on the branches, the resulting tangle as they spread from the various trees in our yard--Aspen, Hibiscus, Honeylocust...

Aspen and friends

For the past few weeks, I've been noticing the tree branches as we move from winter into spring. I think that I actually prefer bare branches to leafed ones. I know that my favorite time is when the trees just start to produce the leaves, when they're still new green and tiny.

Lilac leaves sprouting last week

To have snow on branches now, of course, with their new buds is a hindrance to the plant, but the snow will probably melt soon enough. Maybe it will wake the buds, like a cold shower before facing the hard work of pushing out the leaves...

Magnolia at dusk yesterday

As I think about trees I think about how omnipresent they are in our lives, our history: tree of life, tree of knowledge, family tree...

UNDER a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

Tree branches. They hold the leaves, nests, swings, bird feeders, lights. You can cut a branch, but another will grow, and another, reaching toward the sky, spreading toward each other.

Sending out invisible branches of kitty brotherhood.

(Of course, I had to get the cat picture in. That's just me.)