Fern Frond Fascination

click on the images above to see a larger version

I am utterly fascinated and captivated by the unique unfurling of each frond of the ferns in the forest. Each one unfurls in its own individual way. None are critical of how the other is doing opening up, they are just all opening, easing the tightness of each part and easing into openness. 

beauty in the details

I know spring is a problem time for those of us who suffer with allergies to grasses, pollens, and more. I sure do. But at the same time my itching eyes are awed at the beauty of the grasses that are scattered around with such variety, and with great beauty in the details. There’s colour and texture and, to me, a world of wonder in these grass flowers and seed heads.  This is one that caught my eye this morning, noting its magenta colouring and the feathery tendrils.

grass head and seeds

Spring green Deer-Foot

The brilliant fresh green of the deer-foot (a.k.a. vanilla leaf) and more properly Achlys triphylla -- it is a delight to see their slender stalks, and the tight leaves, like hands with their palms pressed together, then opening like praying hands opening to the light —

The flowers will emerge later but meanwhile these beauties light up the forest floor everywhere the sun filters through.

Strong Roots

strong roots hold the huckleberry even while the nourishing stump rots away
strong roots of the huckleberry: click for larger image

I’ve walked past this particular huckleberry for years but it was only yesterday I noticed the extraordinary lesson it was offering.

A metaphor of rootedness perhaps?

The stump that offered it life, and a strong base for its young life, has rotted quite thoroughly and is continuing to fall away, yet the strong roots continue to hold the huckleberry steady. 

What a marvel!  I’m going to think on  this… but meanwhile, I wonder what it says to you? 

amidst the mess….

After a few good strong winds the beach is littered with fresh driftwood offerings… and some unexpected treasures. My eye was drawn at first by the marvellous tangle of roots. All the roots have been washed free of soil though likely on closer inspection there’ll be a few rocks and stones amidst th tangle. But it was a the treasure amidst the mess that my eyes finally rested on: the white bench, looking mostly, if not fully, intact.  I wonder where it’s come from in its journey through the tides, and how it came to rest here, and who sat on it, and what stories it carries….

If you can’t identify this small treasure, look in the lower right of the frame amidst the logs….