A collection of photographs of wounds, scars and malformations on trees
The first evening of the year 2017 gave a magical sight: the sharp sickle of the waxing moon’s crescent aligned with Venus and Mars at around 7 pm. In addition one could see structures on the dark side of the moon, which are usually merge with the dark night sky and are not visible. Perhaps the sky was brighter tonight due to light being reflected by dust particles in the air from last night’s fireworks. The photos were taken at around 7 pm in Dresden Dölzschen.
Visiting a sunflower field, before venturing on to gather wild herbs and rowan berries. I recharge and absorb the warmth of the evening sun. The temps have dropped to a chilling 12 °C. Going deeper into the sunflower field, a bee, stiffened from the cold, is stuck to a huge sunflower head. I wonder if it will make it through the night. It would wake up to plenty of food though. A few seconds later the sun has vanished and the sky is ablaze…
Every year, dozens of bees and bumblebees are collecting nectar and pollen on our white lavender. Now is that time again. The above photo was a lucky shot. My lens is not really suited for macro photography. But in this image all the details of the insect are clearly visible, whereas the surrounding has a nice bokeh effect, created by motion blur and depth of field. So here we go, another bee joins the “flower devils” photo series.
The sunset that evening
The grass on the meadow in full bloom; everything smelled like summer
The Blackthorn hedge forms a gate around a beaten path. As the former hedge slowly grows into trees, they begin to wither from within, whilst new blackthorn shrubs grow on the outside. With the years a dense thicket is formed, where birds and other animals find a home.
A poison hemlock plant, found on a meadow. The purple spots on green stem and pungent smell easily distinguish it from other umbelliferous plants.
From the gathered blackthorn branches thorn-crowns are made. I’ve been working with the blackthorn for over a decade; since three years I am returning annually to gather branches for making these thorn-crowns. This year I gathered material for making four to five crowns. Two are already reserved. E-mail me if you are interested in receiving one as well.
Common Carder Bee (Bombus pascuorum), on Stinking Hellebore (Helleborus foetidus) flower
Steady-paced I walk up the hill. The air is pleasantly cold. It clears the mind and disperses my headache. I am not freezing. The road I’m walking up is called Am Kirschberg, literally meaning “by the cherry mountain”. The field to the left is covered with a thin layer of snow. The dark frozen soil is sticking out of the white. Ploughing traces create zen like, eye-dazzling patterns. At the end of the long stretched field the view is clearing up towards town. Over the horizon line a narrow golden band illuminates the sky. Above me are grey clouds. I am planning on a short walk, but my legs carry me in a different direction…
Atop a stone wall by the castle, I find the wormwood has not entirely fallen victim to the frost. Next to fading foliage, fresh silvery green leaves are sprouting forth. I gather a few of them, enough for a small winter herb bundle to hang up at home. When dried, it will empower necromantic incense blends. Looking across the river valley, remnants of snow are showing between leafless trees and dark rocks. The sky is an eyeful and I would enjoy the silence, if it wasn’t for cars flashing past on a mint-green autobahn bridge.
The Thorn Grove in Winter
The way down is frozen over and I hold onto the rusty handrail in order to not slip and fall. People coming my way do not greet me and I do not greet them either. Halfway down the hill, I arrive at the thorn grove. The path up there leads through leafless hawthorn trees growing in all directions. A jay sitting in the branches looks at me but does not fly off. Cautiously I venture on. The ground is muddy and slippery. Most of the snow at this side of the hill has melted. By the rocks I find another wormwood plant and spot a bird’s nest near where the jay had been. I am looking around, breathing the fresh winter air, trying to focus my myopic eyes on the distance. I think of none. It is a good place for the soul.
Above, the hawthorn thicket is overgrown by raspberry and wild rose. To the right there are young blackthorn shrubs. Their thorns are long and sharp. The young twigs are flexible and make the best thorn-crowns. Further uphill, there is another areal of high-grown hawthorn trees, partly covered in ivy. It’s bordering at a property and the allotment gardens are close. One is likely to meet passersby here. But a magician knows to use the gaps and at night the place is dead silent. Today, however, I am only a passerby myself.
A Thin White Veil upon the Field
I’m on my way home, stopping now and then, intrigued by the formations of clouds and the golden light of the sun further afar. A skein of geese is on its way southwards. Passing by wild cherry trees lining the field, I search their stems for resin and at last find a group of three tall and slender trees, the base dripping with soft, blood-red gum. I memorize the spot and proceed, faster now. I have to watch my steps. The trail is akin to an ice rink.
At the birch tree, I stop once more. From here the field looks softer…
The birch is a pioneer, a tree of new beginnings and the first to come back after complete devastation. The birch profits from death and desolation, but it also paves the way for others to follow and thrive. Beith is for birch, the tree of January, the door opener.
Remnants of snow on the barren field, remind of the birch’s torn bark. It starts raining and continues to do so. The next day the snow will be gone.
The Blood-Red Resin Tears of the Cherry Tree Sisters
Returning to the cherry trees, the resin is moist from the rain water and easy to scrap off. I collect a jar full, which I later place on the heat. The resin dries and hardens quickly. In its soft state it is sticky and a yellow golden color. It smells remotely of ripe cherries and of caramel, when burnt. In German it is also known as Katzengold, literally “cat’s gold”, and used for sweetening cough tea. In my worship, I employ the dark red resin tears for Naamah and other female entities. In their harvest, take care to not take everything and leave some behind for the spirits, along with offerings for the guardians of the trees. Physical gifts are symbolical and in order, but they count none without respect and patience. The latter are the true sacrifice. The trees will remember your signature and recognize you next time you approach them.
I am thankful. The thought had crossed my mind to scar the trees in order to gather their resin. But I have not done so. Therefor I am blessed.
Concerning the Wood Wide Web: http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20141111-plants-have-a-hidden-internet
Apple blossoms beside decaying fruit from last year still hanging on the tree
melancholia – waiting for inspiration to strike
Old ash and yew trees in an abandoned park from the 19th century
The trees grow atop arranged rocks, underneath is hidden a small cave. The park’s landscape has once been planned carefully and in alignment with prominent buildings, such as the steeple of the Auferstehungskirche. Channels once lead water through the protracted park scape, which stretches along the Weißeritz river. Most of the paths and arranged parts are overgrown and the original park’s landscape is only slowly re-emerging, due to the thoughtful work of conservationists. Thus are revealed oddities such as gnarly, half dead – half alive trees and previously hidden pathways…
Herbs such as hollowroot (Corydalis cava), wood squill (Scilla sibirica) and thimbleweed (Anemone nemorosa) are currently in bloom, covering the grounds in purple, blue and white. As the sun was setting, I did an incense offering between the base of the stems of two ash trees, which are merged by their roots, observing the smoke rising from the womb formed between both trees and watching the sun go down…
Wiebke Rost 