I have mentioned before how grateful I am for the book Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. Kimmerer's book has taught me to walk a little more gently and leave things as I found them. (In other words, don't turn everything I can pick up into a personal souvenir.) She also has taught me about lichen, something I have never paid much attention to. I have learned that they are not a plant, but rather a combination of an algae and a fungus. Here in Northern CA, if our air is healthy (clean air critical for lichens) we often see them on rocks or tree bark. They do no harm to either, but they provide food for many creatures, including humans. I have no interest in eating lichens; I munch my way through the world enough as it is. Yet, what I love about them is when we see them we have reason to celebrate. Lichens are not alone in requiring clean air, so when we see a nice healthy patch we can gratefully take a deep breath in. While I was cropping the attached photograph, I realized that the shape of a heart was appearing. I feel like I am passing on a message from the lichens reminding us to love this world.
Another thoughtfully written book has come into my hands, The Comfort of Crows, a Backyard Year by Margaret Renkl, wonderfully illustrated by Bill Renkl, her brother. Even the paper is beautiful. The book contains a devotion for every week of the year. In her devotion for week 2, Renkl advises that according to birding traditions, the first bird you see on the first day of the new year sets "the tone" for the next twelve months. While I can't remember the first bird I saw that day, more than likely it was either a house sparrow, crow, or a scrub jay. They tend to be out early. I will just go with the trio since seeing and hearing those birds are everyday occurrences that gives me delight.
We are in Week 8 of this year. Tomorrow is not only Valentine's Day, it is also Ash Wednesday. Neither is mentioned in Renkl's devotional. I am okay with that. There is no shortage of writings dedicated to them both. Today I find myself yearning for another viewpoint. Fortunately, life seems to always be willing to provide just that as long as we are willing to try to learn how to both look and see.
"We were never cast out of Eden. We merely turned from it and shut our eyes. To return and be welcomed, cleansed and redeemed, we are only obliged to look."
Margaret Renkl
Image is from the Huckleberry Botanic Regional Preserve Trail in Oakland, a truly wonderful place that has been lovingly tended to. A valentine for us all. February, 2024
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