In Braiding Sweetgrass Robin Wall Kimmerer describes her Native American language Potawatomi as having a “grammar of animacy”. In Potawatomi 70% of words are verbs while in English only 30% are. English is loaded with nouns— things, objects. Wall Kimmerer writes: “When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores… Continue reading To decay willingly
Month: April 2023
To notice slowly
This morning I noticed suddenly the leaves were orange. The crepe myrtle (Lagerstroemia indica), which is gently pushing over the paling boundary fence, has embraced the coming autumn. It was only yesterday, or perhaps the day before, I’d looked up and noted the leaves were still (mainly) green and, swinging the blower left and right,… Continue reading To notice slowly
To be together
The wisteria’s relationship with the jacaranda is ferocious. At this point in time, twenty years in the making, the wisteria’s grip on its support, to the human eye, looks muscular! First thin and lanky the treads of the wisteria snake up, circle around, the limbs of its host, towards the light. Equally addicted to the… Continue reading To be together
To allow to be
Plants are endlessly patient. Humans are endlessly impatient. Even if you strive to be patient, think you have mastered patience some new circumstance will arise and prove you have only scratched the surface. Plants always strive patiently for full expression within the circumstances they find themselves to have germinated. This is the nature of plants.On… Continue reading To allow to be
There is no fence line
I could measure the width and the length of this block of land. These lines can be very exact and they define boundaries. There is a street to the south with its gutters and footpath. There is a neighbour to the east and the boundary is marked by a row of lilly pillys (Acmena smithii).… Continue reading There is no fence line