Isn't that the coolest thing? In Barren, Wild and Worthless, I wrote about the sonic landscape of the huge and endemic Organ Mountain primroses, which not only open with an audible hiss-pop, but their pollinators, tobacco hornworm moths, hover in with a low thrumming noise like distant propeller planes.
One of my early memories of my life in Yuma County was of a rare spring rain that carpeted the desert with Sand Verbena, Desert Lilies and of course, Evening Primroses. I will always have that memory and the memory of the fragrance of the desert during that period.
What a wonderful memory! According to my friends in that area, this spring was another such bountiful one for the desert there, with tons of rain. I wish I'd seen it!
Last year, there were a very few Oenothera along my path to the chicken coop. This year, dozens blooming on both sides--likely due to an extra inch or two of rain in December.
I'm reminded of the sounds of healthy coral 🪸 on reefs that sustain so much life in the oceans. Beautiful reminder to take time to appreciate nature all around us!
Thank you for reminding us of the sounds of healthy coral and healthy reefs, Shawn! May the ocean's coral reefs recover those healthy sounds after this latest bleaching event. And may the earth be resilient in ways we cannot imagine.
Thank you for these wonderful and informative narratives, dear Susan. I also want to point out one little change regarding the date for The Art of Touch release in Albuquerque: it's Saturday (not Sunday), May 11th. Looking forward to that!
This really matches my journey so well. My daily prayer as I go through my morning routine is: Spirit, I am here. Help me live free of fear today. Help me listen in love.
This has allowed me some time with friends and time outdoors, and it other situations where I was too tightly focused on myself before.
This is really a beautiful reflection, right in line with most of the contemplative wisdom teachers I have encountered during my life. Thank you.
Kathryn, Thank you for that beautiful compliment! I am honored. It is inspiring to know that your daily prayer is helping you live more fully where you are and with what you have. I think the most difficult part of living with love is learning to love ourselves, as we are, not as we wish we were. Blessings to you!
Just this morning an Evening Primrose was smiling at me near my bird's water dish. Jim named them Golf Ball Flowers because he'd think he see one of his balls he'd hit into the field, but no ... it was a flower! Now all my walking buddies call them Golf Ball Flowers. Jim will be remembered for MANY things!
I remember you saying that Jim called them golf ball flowers, and that still makes me chuckle. What a great memory of him! Enjoy your golf ball flowers, even in this dry spring. <3
When I backpacked and hiked I took photos of wildflowers bursting from the darnedest places: desert rocks and steep canyon walls. They are the only flowers I paint.
I didn't know that you painted wildflowers, Karen! What a wonderful gift. And painting those who thrive in the toughest of environments is a wonderful way to honor your own journey too.
I am grateful for the wildflowers I have planted in my yard. And for the Book of Wildflowers I have taken pix of and assembled into a photo book. They are from our travels..
I am so grateful ...for so many things. Today it's the smell of Murphys Oil Soap filling my big red bucket as Spring Cleaning begins in our magical little cottage. I'm upstairs in our tiny guest room/ office/ music room. It's not used terribly often but holds many small things that hold sweet memories. It will be 8 years tomorrow that my Mom left on her next journey. How my life has changed!
Here's to a beautiful 'today' filled with splendid resilient wildflowers ...as are we all.
Such a memorable smell, and may it bring you joy as you clean the cottage and revel in the memories that your talismans hold! And may your memories of your mother be sweet ones as you remember her in this time of her transition. Your poems are like talismans, reminding us of what matters most, celebrating this life in its beauty and pain and fullness. Happy spring!
I don't, and thank you for letting me know about it, Jill! This one is an evening primrose, from a whole different plant family than common primroses, so they really behave differently. Most are night-blooming flowers, and their pollinators are hovering moths, which gives them a very different life than regular primroses. I don't think there are any primroses native to the Desert Southwest, since they are generally plants of moist places, though there could be some in the mountains or around springs. I'll have to find out!
Entirely different plant family! Ack. Amateur hour. I loved looking at that book so much and don't know enough botany. Entirely different, too, to encounter primroses in real life, especially in the desert. That they made sounds blew my mind, but also night-bloomers. Wow. Learning how much I have to learn from plants.
Not to worry. I love those primroses too, and I really appreciate you pointing out a book I didn't know. :) There's a new plant book out that I haven't read, but I am looking forward to reading, and I'll review it down the road in another post. It's called "The Light Eaters," a brilliant title, I think, and it's a look at plant intelligence and what it can teach us about nature in general and our human lives.
Dear Jane, What a treat to "hear" your voice in this space. May your spiritual listening bring you wisdom and joy, and help you on this journey of balancing caregiving with tending your community of readers. Love to you!
Evening primroses are magical. Thank you for sharing these blooms. WA state has been declared in drought. April has been dry! Even the Olympic rainforest is experiencing drought.
I am so sorry to hear that you're in drought there in Washington too, even the West (usually wet) Side. I'm afraid the coming La Niña doesn't bode well for any of us.
Great question, Mary. What likely happened is that the ant picked up the evening primrose seed by its edible "handle" and munched on the handle as she (foraging harvester ants are generally female workers) walked back toward the nest. When she finished eating the handle, which the plant evolved for the very purpose of attracting ants to pick up and carry seeds from the parent plant, the ant came to the very tough seed coat, lost interest, and dropped the seed before taking it underground. Plants have many clever ways to attract transportation to move their seeds far from the nest. I suspect it was just random that this ant finished eating the seed handle right where she did. (Ant workers live short lives, so she would have know way of knowing the seed would germinate there the next year; in fact, it's debatable whether she would recognize the connection between seed and plant at all.)
We are just on the edge of Spring here in Maine. The yellow forsythia blossomed last week and now things are waking up. Walking and noticing how things are changing almost always resolves my current anxiety with new found gratitude and wisdom.
Oh, how lovely! Enjoy the green and the coming blooms. As for walking and noticing, I really believe that being present in nature is the best medicine possible for these times. And I am glad you can give yourself regular doses of what some medical professionals are now calling, Vitamin N. Blessings!
Susan, I have long liked Oenethera. When we lived in Moab, we used to go out at dusk to hear the flowers open, which they do with audible pop. David
Isn't that the coolest thing? In Barren, Wild and Worthless, I wrote about the sonic landscape of the huge and endemic Organ Mountain primroses, which not only open with an audible hiss-pop, but their pollinators, tobacco hornworm moths, hover in with a low thrumming noise like distant propeller planes.
One of my early memories of my life in Yuma County was of a rare spring rain that carpeted the desert with Sand Verbena, Desert Lilies and of course, Evening Primroses. I will always have that memory and the memory of the fragrance of the desert during that period.
What a wonderful memory! According to my friends in that area, this spring was another such bountiful one for the desert there, with tons of rain. I wish I'd seen it!
Last year, there were a very few Oenothera along my path to the chicken coop. This year, dozens blooming on both sides--likely due to an extra inch or two of rain in December.
Oh, how lovely! I am glad you got such bountiful rains. I hope we will again sometime, but not this year....
I'm reminded of the sounds of healthy coral 🪸 on reefs that sustain so much life in the oceans. Beautiful reminder to take time to appreciate nature all around us!
Thank you for reminding us of the sounds of healthy coral and healthy reefs, Shawn! May the ocean's coral reefs recover those healthy sounds after this latest bleaching event. And may the earth be resilient in ways we cannot imagine.
Thank you for these wonderful and informative narratives, dear Susan. I also want to point out one little change regarding the date for The Art of Touch release in Albuquerque: it's Saturday (not Sunday), May 11th. Looking forward to that!
Oops! Thank you for the correction, Liz. I'll change it on the web version right now. :)
This really matches my journey so well. My daily prayer as I go through my morning routine is: Spirit, I am here. Help me live free of fear today. Help me listen in love.
This has allowed me some time with friends and time outdoors, and it other situations where I was too tightly focused on myself before.
This is really a beautiful reflection, right in line with most of the contemplative wisdom teachers I have encountered during my life. Thank you.
Kathryn, Thank you for that beautiful compliment! I am honored. It is inspiring to know that your daily prayer is helping you live more fully where you are and with what you have. I think the most difficult part of living with love is learning to love ourselves, as we are, not as we wish we were. Blessings to you!
Just this morning an Evening Primrose was smiling at me near my bird's water dish. Jim named them Golf Ball Flowers because he'd think he see one of his balls he'd hit into the field, but no ... it was a flower! Now all my walking buddies call them Golf Ball Flowers. Jim will be remembered for MANY things!
I remember you saying that Jim called them golf ball flowers, and that still makes me chuckle. What a great memory of him! Enjoy your golf ball flowers, even in this dry spring. <3
When I backpacked and hiked I took photos of wildflowers bursting from the darnedest places: desert rocks and steep canyon walls. They are the only flowers I paint.
I didn't know that you painted wildflowers, Karen! What a wonderful gift. And painting those who thrive in the toughest of environments is a wonderful way to honor your own journey too.
I am grateful for the wildflowers I have planted in my yard. And for the Book of Wildflowers I have taken pix of and assembled into a photo book. They are from our travels..
Surrounding yourself with wildflowers in real life and in your photo book are both wonderful blessings. :)
I am so grateful ...for so many things. Today it's the smell of Murphys Oil Soap filling my big red bucket as Spring Cleaning begins in our magical little cottage. I'm upstairs in our tiny guest room/ office/ music room. It's not used terribly often but holds many small things that hold sweet memories. It will be 8 years tomorrow that my Mom left on her next journey. How my life has changed!
Here's to a beautiful 'today' filled with splendid resilient wildflowers ...as are we all.
Kathleen
Such a memorable smell, and may it bring you joy as you clean the cottage and revel in the memories that your talismans hold! And may your memories of your mother be sweet ones as you remember her in this time of her transition. Your poems are like talismans, reminding us of what matters most, celebrating this life in its beauty and pain and fullness. Happy spring!
What a beauty of a primrose. That it turns color. That it only blooms one day. I loved this guide to Primroses by Elizabeth Winpenny Lawson. Do you know it? https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/distributed/P/bo38336739.html
I don't, and thank you for letting me know about it, Jill! This one is an evening primrose, from a whole different plant family than common primroses, so they really behave differently. Most are night-blooming flowers, and their pollinators are hovering moths, which gives them a very different life than regular primroses. I don't think there are any primroses native to the Desert Southwest, since they are generally plants of moist places, though there could be some in the mountains or around springs. I'll have to find out!
Entirely different plant family! Ack. Amateur hour. I loved looking at that book so much and don't know enough botany. Entirely different, too, to encounter primroses in real life, especially in the desert. That they made sounds blew my mind, but also night-bloomers. Wow. Learning how much I have to learn from plants.
Not to worry. I love those primroses too, and I really appreciate you pointing out a book I didn't know. :) There's a new plant book out that I haven't read, but I am looking forward to reading, and I'll review it down the road in another post. It's called "The Light Eaters," a brilliant title, I think, and it's a look at plant intelligence and what it can teach us about nature in general and our human lives.
Light Eaters! I look forward to reading your review.
Listening as a spiritual practice is a part of my fledgling journey. I like the idea of flowering desert plants granting wisdom. Carry on my friend.
Dear Jane, What a treat to "hear" your voice in this space. May your spiritual listening bring you wisdom and joy, and help you on this journey of balancing caregiving with tending your community of readers. Love to you!
Evening primroses are magical. Thank you for sharing these blooms. WA state has been declared in drought. April has been dry! Even the Olympic rainforest is experiencing drought.
I am so sorry to hear that you're in drought there in Washington too, even the West (usually wet) Side. I'm afraid the coming La Niña doesn't bode well for any of us.
So appreciate the sensory experience you offer, Susan.
And, by nature rather than chance, would that Ant have ‘known’ to drop that primrose seed and provide more food at the door of their nest?
Great question, Mary. What likely happened is that the ant picked up the evening primrose seed by its edible "handle" and munched on the handle as she (foraging harvester ants are generally female workers) walked back toward the nest. When she finished eating the handle, which the plant evolved for the very purpose of attracting ants to pick up and carry seeds from the parent plant, the ant came to the very tough seed coat, lost interest, and dropped the seed before taking it underground. Plants have many clever ways to attract transportation to move their seeds far from the nest. I suspect it was just random that this ant finished eating the seed handle right where she did. (Ant workers live short lives, so she would have know way of knowing the seed would germinate there the next year; in fact, it's debatable whether she would recognize the connection between seed and plant at all.)
Ah, more plant wisdom.
You have to be smart and well-connected to thrive while rooted in place!
We are just on the edge of Spring here in Maine. The yellow forsythia blossomed last week and now things are waking up. Walking and noticing how things are changing almost always resolves my current anxiety with new found gratitude and wisdom.
Oh, how lovely! Enjoy the green and the coming blooms. As for walking and noticing, I really believe that being present in nature is the best medicine possible for these times. And I am glad you can give yourself regular doses of what some medical professionals are now calling, Vitamin N. Blessings!
Your writings inspire me to love my commune with the nature around me. Thank you!
Nancy, I am glad my writing inspires to practice your terraphilia and remember the joys of being in relationship with nature. Many blessings to you!
Nature and its beauty continue to add joy everyday. I wish all could appreciate each little bit of our natural world.
We can never see everything, do everything, be everything. We can only do our best to make our moments of awareness rich and caring ones.