there used to be quince trees scattered across the united states. when you settled a new area you grew a garden and like as not, you planted a quince tree, because quince are full of pectin, and you need pectin for jams and jellies and pies. then in 1913 somebody patented commercial pectin derived from the apple pomace left over from apple pressing, and quince trees were gradually ignored, abandoned, or cut down. i don’t necessarily want to wait for a quince tree to mature before i make my next strawberry jam or freeform rustic apple tart, yet it feels as if something has been lost in the absence of the quince tree in the back yard, that gave such beautiful blossoms in the spring, and promised such sweet pleasure to be stored in the larder all fall and winter.
i tried photographing this arrangement about 8 different ways and then suddenly from this angle, the flower in the foreground looked like a curious little busybody, leaning forward to investigate his surroundings, and i decided i liked him. then i saw the stiff disapproving look on the face of the flower in the background, and decided i liked mr. curiosity even more.
scilla (siberian squill)
turtle lake, shoreview, minnesota
today a friend called and said, with all appropriate urgency, that her magnolia was in bloom. some people understand the important things.
pink magnolia blossoms
the woods outside my window are winter brown and gray, tinged with the palest green. it’s like hearing the first note of a song you love
saint paul, minnesota
our shoreline is full of red winged blackbirds right now, swaying from the tips of last year’s cattails, and trilling about love. even this one, who didn’t see the hawk coming, seems to be burning with life.
red winged blackbird feathers