as are crocus and snowdrop, and the willow is blooming
with its delicate flowers, gentle to the touch.
So I packed my rucksack and made for the hills, starting behind my door. I saw many delicate wonders along the trail, one could easily pass by without notice. But it was so much I had to restrict myself... everywhere there were signs of new life, or of life sprouting undefeated by winter. It was like a metaphor or even a symbol to me; life will find a way, if in nature or in society. Man has done much harm, as has winter, but nature still is sprouting strong, in spite of pollution, in spite of the jaws of ice.
"If the birch will prosper, in spite of curse and littany, (..) then there is hope for the trees..." (Cád Goddeu)
And hope there is. Always. Even if it´s dark. Even if society of this human world loads your back with useless, pointless, meaningless burdens, and you are caught in the mill of doom as we all are. I like to remember this, even if it´s not as easy all the time. I like to hoard my treasures that I collected while sitting on a stump in spring, for the storms of winter, for the storms of doom.
This is truth; man will not succeed in doing permanent harm to life. Life will always find a way. There will be bears bearing cubs, there will be snowdrop sprouting. Or, even if all is destroyed, there is even nature on Mars.
This is comforting to me.
It was an atmosphere of utter joy,as I walked on, birds where singing everywhere. I sang a song myself, and smiled in solitude to the rhythm of my walking feet, treading lightly.
The willow in blossom! This is near the highway, where there´s junk and pollution and searing noise everywhere and no peace to be found, except in the simple blossom of the willow. I like this symbol ever so much more for the utter desolation of the place.
On the other side of the highway there is a small, neglected wood, and I came across this birch, maltreated by Mr. woodpecker gone off his rocker;-). I took a piece of green birch from a twig and sealed the hole, and I hope it will survive in spite of the wound.
This is the reason Mr. woodpecker got off his rocker; this birch is well inhabited... After doing so, I went on, for I had an appointment to keep... but that´s another story...;-).