after one final close look
at the butterflies we raised
it’s time to release them back into nature
where they quickly find their wings.
“the butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.”
*”tulips are the only flowers that continue to grow, up to an inch or more, after they’re cut.”
i find it fascinating that they refuse to surrender so easily
even defiantly growing longer
*Tulip stems do continue to lengthen once they’re snipped. That’s because the cells in their stems are particularly responsive to the plant hormone auxin, which causes them to elongate. Auxin also influences phototropism — the tendency of plants to grow toward light. – google
art credit: watercolor by vadim
on my frequent walks to the river
each time passing this sign
i wondered –
often someone chopping wood
putting up canoes, cooking outside
peaceful communal living
until i learned the intriguing backstory
the amazing spirit of this society.
Society of Les Voyageurs
As the oldest continually active student group on the University of Michigan campus (founded in 1907), the Society of Les Voyageurs upholds a long-standing tradition of convening over the love for nature and the out of doors. The Society owns a cabin on the Huron River just north of downtown called Habe Mills Pine Lodge that was built in 1927 to house the Society, its activities, as well as those members who choose to live there. The group also hosts potluck dinners every Sunday at 6pm, followed by a program from a professor or a community member pertaining to learning more about the out of doors. The group is known to embark occasionally on casual outings such as hiking, backpacking, rock climbing, caving, cross-country skiing, etc.
*”si le voyageur n’espere rien, il ne verra ce que voient les yeux.”
-eric-emmanuel schmitt (franco-belgian playwright, novelist, film director)
*(If the traveler does not hope for anything, he will only see what the eyes see.)
argo park, ann arbor, michigan, usa – april 2021
on the river – welcoming spring
Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air –
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music – like the rain pelting the trees – like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds –
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?
– Mary Oliver