Tag: trees

Blogs I Like (and You Might, Too)–4/16/2024

On By Mike U.In Featured Blogs46 Comments

This ongoing initiative showcases blogs with fewer than 500 subscribers which I think are deserving of more attention. Hopefully these blogs will spark your interest and you’ll check them out. It’s my way of spreading awareness of talented writers whose work I admire.

This week’s featured blog is Ashley’s A Different View. I first met Ashley in November 2021 when he and I were both invited to take part in a discussion titled “Exploring Basho’s Moon,” an examination of one of Basho’s famous haiku, hosted by Mark Scott’s Season Words blog. I found Ashley to be the kindest fellow imaginable, and his delicate skill regarding the writing of traditional haiku was astounding. Since then, I’ve come to consider Ashley a good friend of mine, someone whose love of nature and poetic ability create a sense of peace and serenity. Ashley speaks my language, you could say, and his blog is a calm harbor of natural beauty and exemplary writing.

I asked Ashely if he’d like to provide a little background about himself and his blog. I’ll let his own words do the talking:

  • I’m 74 years old and married to Carol for 52 years although we were courting about 5 years before that so we’ve been together for at least 57 years
  • whilst Carol has had so much illness in her life (cancer x 4 + heart problems) SHE is still my rock
  • I’m a great grandfather
  • I was born in the city of Armagh in Northern Ireland to northern English parents
  • Armagh was the ancient capital of Christian Ireland & whilst no longer a practicing Christian, the sound of cathedral bells is in my heart (see John Betjeman: Summoned By Bells)
  • left home at 21 to live & work in London, UK.  Work location then was close to the River Thames & that river flows within me still
  • 30 years spent living & working in England in the clothing industry: after redundancy, aged 45, worked in various jobs (transport, retail, health service) now retired
  • returned to NI some years ago
  • did voluntary work with the Woodland Trust (30+ years).  LOVE trees, obsessed by them
  • through WordPress discovered haiku & writing in season
  • have always wanted to write & illustrate
  • lower back problems meant that I restarted my life, exercising daily, a mixture of physio exercises & Qi Gong
  • I have only ever travelled outside the UK about 3 or 4 times but follow blogs all around the world.  With tools like Google Translate I am amazed how many different cultures & languages I am able to connect with
  • I love the simplicity of seasonal haiku

I would be remiss were I not to mention that one thing I find intriguing about Ashley’s blog is that I have some Irish ancestry, and the Emerald Isle is a land I’ve always wanted to explore. I’m able to do that vicariously through Ashley’s writing and photography. Ashley’s essays take us on strolls through the Irish countryside among wild flowers and the trees he loves so dearly, and his haiku–distilled to their very essence–paint glorious pictures of the natural world. For an example of what A Different View offers, here’s a post Ashley chose to share:

“Occasional Furniture (1)”

In a nutshell, if you love nature, if you appreciate fine Japanese short-form poetry, if you’ve ever felt the desire to travel to Ireland, Ashley’s A Different View has it all. I hope you’ll visit Ashley’s blog and walk along with him among the trees.

Let’s spread the love and support our fellow bloggers.

“Green & Brown Acorns”

On By Mike U.In Photography55 Comments

Green & Brown Acorns, Southeast Utah (c) Mike Utley

When we think of oaks, we tend to envision stately, majestic, robust trees with brawny boughs festooned with squirrels and tree houses. However, the farm on which I was raised in southeastern Utah sported no such giants. Instead, their gnarled, stunted cousins—Gambel oaks—thrived in the arid climate. We called them oak brush or scrub oak, and this species belongs primarily to the Four Corners region of the U.S. (Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona). Small copses of this species covered much of the farm, and in the fall their dull brown leaves were the epitome of anti-climax when compared to the canary yellow of the elms and aspens. Brilliant palettes of lichen covered the twisted trunks of these trees that could sink roots even in sandstone. As a kid, I considered them the apotheosis of banality. I mean, it’s pretty pointless to climb a tree that will buckle under your weight, and when you’re a kid, an unscalable tree is a tree without a purpose. All they seemed good for was giving perch to squawking magpies and providing shade for cottontails. But their acorns were little treasures, lustrous green with finely textured cupules that resembled tiny little kilts (a shout-out to my Scottish heritage).

One autumn in the late 1990s, I gathered a couple of handfuls of these green gems, most of which had fallen to the ground and were destined to end up in a magpie’s beak or a squirrel’s belly. They seemed to glow of their own inner light, and I wanted to capture their hues and textures on film. I arranged them in a rusty pie tin on an old splintery wooden bench in the backyard and photographed them beneath an overcast sky to eliminate any harsh contrast. I added a lone brown acorn to the shot to liven things up a bit, placing it near one of the power-points to draw the viewer’s eye. I was pleased with the final result. And an interesting thing occurred… Nearly everyone who viewed this image immediately began interpreting it, all because of that single brown acorn in the corner. “This image is obviously a treatise on life and death…” Or, “This photo speaks to the evils of ageism, where the elderly are being pushed out of society just as the youthful green acorns are shoving the old brown oaknut right out of the frame…” Or, “Racism. This image is all about racism…” And I’d sort of grin and shrug my shoulders. How could I disappoint these folks with the truth? How could I burst their pretentious intellectual bubbles by telling them, “Hey, I just liked the colors and textures, and I stuck the old brown acorn in just for contrast”? To paraphrase Freud, “Sometimes an acorn is just an acorn…” And for those who are wondering, yes, I did pick a few from the branches, but after the image was made, all the acorns were distributed beneath the oaks where the magpies, squirrels and chipmunks would easily find them and deposit them in their larders. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)

“Spruce Sprout on Stump”

On By Mike U.In Photography40 Comments
Spruce Sprout on Stump, Abajo Mountain, SE Utah (c) Mike Utley

While exploring the Abajo (Blue) Mountain in southeast Utah in the summer of 1996, I came across this tiny blue spruce sprout growing on an old blackened stump. I was struck by the brilliant green—the color of youth and vitality—and how it contrasted with the dark tones of the stump—age and fatigue. The textures were also a study in contrast, with the smooth, supple flesh of the sprout defying the harsh, rough wood of the base of the old dead tree. I’m fascinated by contrasts in nature, and this mini-tableau was brimming with them. Life and death? Youth and old-age? Color and a lack thereof? Tenderness and harsh reality? Perseverance in the face of all odds? The inexorability of life where none should exist? Anyone who knows me will realize the main emotion I felt when I saw this scene was one of quiet stillness and contemplation. This sprout speaks to me on a fundamental level, telling me there is hope—always, there is hope—even in death. If we take the time to actually see what is around us in nature, we can sense change in our lives and an invigoration of our spirits…and because of this intrinsic truth, it’s all the more important that we are good stewards of our earth. Nature nurtures our souls, and once it’s gone, then there will be no more hope for us. (Canon gear, Fuji Velvia ISO 50)