Nature, Singing

Tucked between red-clad Santas and decorated evergreens, this very late rain lily (Zephyranthes candida) bloomed in the San Bernard refuge butterfly garden long after many of its kind had called it a season.

Graced with the colors of Christmas and petals suggesting the open receptiveness of a child, it recalls the words of the beloved carol:

Joy to the world! The Lord is come;
let earth receive her King.
Let every heart prepare him room
and heaven and nature sing…

Remarkably, we don’t sing, “Joy to human beings, joy to those who walk upright and drive cars and open too many credit card accounts and are nasty to their neighbors.” We don’t sing “Joy to the church-goers, the faithful, the few.”

The joy we sing is meant for the whole world: for stars and dirt; mountains and seas; trees, rocks, valleys and hills, and every creature inhabiting them. At Christmas, heaven and nature sing out this truth: the gifts of the season are meant for the world as a whole. We who inhabit that world, who trace a path upon its soil and gaze upon its stars are called to sing its praises, too, and join in its celebration.

 

Comments always are welcome.

A Different Sort of Angel

 

It happens every year. At some point, without any obvious prompting from the world around me, I begin whistling a Christmas song. Last year, it was “Let It Snow.” Once, “Good King Wenceslas” came to visit, even before the last of the Halloween candy sales were done.

This year it happened yesterday: a little late, but not too late. Angela Lansbury may not be a prototypical angel, but her Christmas song from the 1966 Broadway musical Mame still brings cheer. I’ll let still shots from the production serve as photos today. Enjoy!

 

Comments always are welcome.

Carry and Cache

 

There’s little question that these slightly shriveled berries were produced by the plant known as yaupon (Ilex vomitoria), a member of the holly family that’s native throughout the southeast, from Texas to coastal North Carolina.

How they came to be clustered in this hollow — part of a large, decaying tree stump — is hard to say, since there wasn’t an over-hanging yaupon branch to drop its berries into the stump. Even if there were, it seems unlikely that so many would have collected there.

It is food-gathering time, with squirrels burying pecans or collecting and drying fungi, while woodpeckers and bluejays energetically seek out and store acorns. Still, this seems a poor spot for caching food. Perhaps a younger and less experienced critter gave it a try, but decided to find a drier, more secure spot.

On the other hand, Christmas is drawing nigh. Perhaps this is only an optimistic squirrel’s version of cookies and milk. With such tempting berries in the stump, surely Santa Squirrel will pay a visit!

 

Comments always are welcome.