To Catch a Kite

Stern

&

unmoving

as

unyielding

&

standoffish

as a mountain.

Overall a loner

and a

snooty

ย curmudgeonly

grump.

So who could guess

that underneath

all that

bark

lay

someone

who

loved

a

bit of

fun

&

games

Purple tree

๐Ÿ˜€ ๐Ÿ˜€ And another one too!

Bfly tree

So which kite is your favorite?

Thanks for visiting ๐Ÿ™‚

Linked to Becca’s Sunday Trees

 

Advertisements

The Foster Parent

Foster P

This week, for Becca’s Sunday Trees, I have a massive Neem (Azadirachta indica) tree in idyllic surroundings.

Aerial

Isn’t she magnificent? And not just that. Here’s what I missed in the first time I took this aerial shot.

Peepal

Just a little lower down, nestling within the hardened bark are the tender young leaves of the Peepal (Ficus religiosa) tree. Truly a miracle of nature don’t you think?

Thanks for visiting ๐Ÿ™‚

The Beefy One

Beefy

Standing at the edge of a children’s playground this tree seems to have been working out ๐Ÿ˜‰

I came across an excellent piece on trees by Hermann Hesse. I thought perhaps you may like to read it too.

Bรคume: Betrachtungen und Gedichteย [Trees: Reflections and Poems]

โ€œFor me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.

A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.โ€

Linked to Becca’s Sunday Trees – 307

 

Her Story

Chandi

This isn’t about you

This isn’t even about me

This is about all those who

who gave of themselves

to make us

us.

 

Linked to Becca’s Sunday Trees – 305

 

Standing Tall

Summer is all but over and it is ‘technically’ off season for the glorious amaltas. Remember them? On one my (rare) morning walks, I caught them all decorously green and yet nestling within her folds were splashes of yellow.

 

Amaltasx

Apparently even trees hate to give up their jewelry ๐Ÿ˜‰ Or perhaps she is just ensuring for her future generations ๐Ÿ™‚ But seriously, minus her glowing golden aura or her bare devil may care look, she does look rather drab and uninteresting doesn’t she? Let’s take a closer look shall we?

ScarredAt first I though she offered high rise apartments for rent. ๐Ÿ˜€ But on a closer look I realized they aren’tย  bird nests but scars from old wounds – branches that she has nurtured and in all likelihood mercilessly cut off. Does she not feel the pain of loss? How could she not? Yet she continues to grow and bloom, undeterred.

The show, you see, must go on.

โ€œThe wound is the place where the Light enters you.โ€ โ€• Jalaluddin Rumi

Have a super week.

Linked to Becca’s Sunday Trees – 304

 

A Class Apart

20170825_125711

waiting

for her

time

in the sun

to offer

shade

when

there is

none

 

For Becca’s Sunday Trees – 303

 

A Package Deal

For this week’s Sunday Trees, I have something that is not technically a tree. But that does not detract from its greatness or usefulness ๐Ÿ˜‰ Presenting to you all – the largest herbaceous flowering plant, that is the banana plant.

BantreeThe banana plant has uses other than that of dishing out a complete packaged clean food in bunches. The green leaves were traditionally used as plates and in fact still are in some parts of the country, particularly during festivals and special occasions. The leaves are also used to package and steam food tied up with strings made from the stem, which gives the dish a unique flavor.

BtreeContained within in indistinguishable untidy jungle of leaves is the stem which is also edible. But that is not on my list of foods to eat again before I die – more like to avoid ๐Ÿ˜‰ Further, all parts of the plant are believed to have medicinal properties and have been used in Ayurveda for the treatment of various ailments. For example, cooked flowers are used for bronchitis, dysentery and ulcers. Plant sap is used for stings and bites. The young leaves can be used as a poultice for skin irritations.

BandFlowersA closer shot of the young bananas hanging and the flower. In my part of the country, West Bengal, the dishes cooked with the flower is a delicacy and a personal favorite, unlike the stem. Although I have to confess I haven’t tried my hand at cooking it – preparation and extraction of edible bits is tedious and taxing ๐Ÿ˜‰

That’s all I know about this fascinating tree oops plant.

Anyone like to add their bit?

By the way did you hear about little Tommy who declared, “Of course I know how to spell banana, I just don’t know when to stop” ๐Ÿ˜‰ ๐Ÿ˜€

I hope it’s okay Becca, that this week I shared a plant masquerading as a tree rather than a real tree ๐Ÿ™‚

Thanks for visiting – have a great week!