we have been home from france for two months. for the most part, i am avoiding the world, especially the daily news. i have felt burned out by the election and its aftermath to be sure, but more so by the ubiquitous american tendency to hustle and overwork. a northern, anglo-saxon urge that has always been a part of me, but that i was able to shed, temporarily, among our sane, latin, mediterranean neighbors over the last several months of last year. like this elderberry, i feel ready to come out of my period of dormancy. but like this elderberry, the fruits of my re-emergence may contain a low level of toxicity.

red elderberry bud

saint paul, minnesota

certain plants say a lot about the places they come from, and by extension, a lot about the people who come from those places. if you say “birch,” can you think of anyplace other than a northern forest, with some tall and hearty looking human specimens moving briskly through them? possibly on skis or snowshoes? so when i say “olive tree,” where do those snowshoes go? and where to those pale, blond nordic giants go? well, they shrink by about half a foot. and their hair turns black. and they ditch those skis. and they probably lie down in the shade of the olive tree because it’s pretty hot in the sun, and because life is meant to be enjoyed in the form of moments like these, in the shade of olive trees.

olive branch with fruits

i recently read the design book A Frame for Life (which I recommend by the way). In it the author Ilse Crawford talks about how good design integrates unusual beauty with surprising functionality. Could there be any better description of nature itself? i mean look at that stem. is there anything about it that is not unusually beautiful, or surprisingly functional?

winter teasel

think i’ll belly up to a sand bar tonight and slide a few of these across. keep ’em coming, barkeep. i got a million more where that came from.

sand dollars

gulf coast of florida

i’ve had occasion to laud my fellow scientists for the precision of their language. often the scientific description of a species or plant is as accurate and playful as anything a poet could come up with. but i just read the rain tree pods above described as “three-parted inflated bladder-like pods.” come on, fellow nerds. you can do better than that. how about “leathern satchels.” or “varnished skulls” or “matte mahogany.” let’s not take our eyes off the ball here.

golden rain tree seed pods