Disappearing from the North Shore: the white birch. Sad.
Viewing Superior through their white frame, their white paper catching the lake light. In the winter, as one with the ice.
Hearing the wind rustle their leaves above our backyard fires.
They framed our yard and my soul.
What frames your visions?
Trail Baboon 
Most mornings when I open my eyes my view is framed by cats.
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When I had cats the view was specific to the rear end!
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Rise and Shine Baboons!
Nice pastel, Clyde. Thanks. Today my vision is framed by a headache–nice weather is accompanied by a low pressure system which is the recipe for a headache.
In AZ our views are surrounded by majestic mountains. In MN it is framed by luscious green trees and treetops.
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Pessimism. Optimism.
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Why are they disappearing, do you know, Clyde?
Short answer kind of trite, maybe – windows, in winter anyway. I’ve been lucky that most of the places I’ve lived have had a lot of windows. Will think on this more.
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http://www.extension.umn.edu/garden/insects/find/bronze-birch-borer/
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The bird show frames our kitten’s view as she watches out the patio doors. It is very exciting for her when the birds fly up on the deck to eat spilled sunflower seeds. They perch in the grape vines that grow up the verticals on the deck’s west side looking for dried grapes. She crouches, her tail twitches, and sometimes she leaps and crashes into the glass if the birds come too close.
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BTW my last name means birchwood.
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When I was a boy I adored birches. They were my favorite tree. Birches were the trees I associated with Minnesota, which was the closest thing to heaven that I could imagine at the time. Iowa was cornfields, pigs banging the lids of their feeders, sultry summers. Minnesota was loon music, pine-scented air, cool lakes. And birches.
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This morning it was:
A bit of bumper plastic. A lone purple glove. Two drinking straws. An Arby’s wrapper. A Motts applesauce container. A non-winning scratch off lottery ticket. A crushed Bud Light can. Cigarette butts. More cigarette butts. A plastic Vitamin Water bottle. Leaves. A couple of feet of twine. Half a pencil. A lighter. Dairy Queen spoon. A flowering dandelion.
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Sounds like lyrics to a country/western song.
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That was just in the first couple of yards of a 6 mile walk.
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I used to do an informal survey of roadside trash on my bike rides. You did not mention 5-Hour Energy Drink containers and floss holders.
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Were you sleeping in a rest area off the freeway? Can’t quite picture it.
OT – Haven’t had internet or phone connection since about 3 PM yesterday. Just got it back.
Leo is proving to be a bit of a test. He’s so full of energy and wants to play, and neither Bernie nor Martha are humoring him. Outside everything is a sloppy, wet, muddy mess. I’ve taken him up to a ball field to let him chase a tennis ball, he needs excercise, and he loves it, but good grief, he gets dirty. He arrived, freshly groomed and beautiful; now he’s a big dirty mess, and so are my floors. I need a huge hamster wheel!
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I wonder if he would like an agility course? I bet there are some to be found in local dog parks. There is nothing better than a tired terrier. We used to wear out our first terrier by sitting at opposite sides of the living room and bouncing a tennis ball to one another, with the dog in the middle trying to get it on the bounce before the human caught it. I think it is called Monkey in the Middle.
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We need to do something, that’s for sure. He’s the sweetest dog ever, but boy, he’s wearing me out. We’ll try the ball trick.
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when you fall asleep on the couch move the garbage can so your head doesnt fall in it
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It is too dry here for birches, yet people plant them anyway.
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Our kitten likes to fetch. She drops these crinkly, shiny paper balls at our feet and chases them when we toss them, bringing them back for repeated tosses. She also discovered that it is really fun to unroll the toilet paper in the bathroom. It just keeps unrolling and unrolling and unrolling. . . .
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You need to flip the roll over so it unwinds in the opposite direction, if you want to stop her, that is.
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I am a dedicated admirer of Robert Frost. I admire that he wrote a poem about birches. But the content of the poem is out of my realm of experiences with birches. New England must have different kinds of birch trees.
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nice , thanks
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I love that song, although you could argue that it’s about dead birches.
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Husband’s vision currently framed by the open oven as he broils green onion brats. He is sitting on a foot stool and loves fussing over those sausages. It is too mucky in the backyard to grill there.
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The frame of my mornings (stole this idea from a story on The Moth Radio Hour) is:
– turn up heat and start computer
– bathroom regimen
– start hot water for tea
– do 5 minutes of yoga
– get dressed
– (occasionally) take time to sit and drink tea
– find or fix breakfast
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robert fulghum wrote traditions about the rituals we all have and i was going to a shrink at the time who as i went through my morning routine ( i have reportedhere before) that i was passing on the tradition of water as a life partner. i dont know where i got it but i got it to the point i was in need of getting up an hour early to have my ritual go as it was supposed to. life has changed now and the loss of my morning routine is something i have dealt with. it is one of the minor hiccups that my life has endured but i have yet to find the correct new one.
the hot tub is wonderful but i havnt got it set up with the radio and the tea pot. the reading light and the internet access to make it a true launching pad for the day. i like to be able to listen to my music, drink my tea, soak in the tub read and diddle on the computer. these days (today included) are begun by checking my emails for chinese needs to do the next thing for the business ditty i am working on. (started a new one yesterday that had been brewing for a while. found a technical partner and am doing a patent search to see if i can go ahead) i find my life is framed by trying to get the urgent out of the way so i can get to the important. i was listening to the radio or a podcast where someone talked about a swami who was being interviewed and the interviewer commented on the swamis iner peace was remarkable. “how do you make it so quiet in there” the interview asked and the swami replied ” it is quiet in here. its you and i that make all the noise”
i feel like life is framed throug a set of eyes that are busy with the noise we are distracted by at the moment. it is quiet out there and in here and you and i choose to make it noisy or calm. im working on it. my frame is directed by my family my dreams my vision my choice of where to direct my energy today.
im working at it.
i saw a planting of birches as a beautiful landscape today and realized after i drove past that i could have photographed and sent them in. bet i will be able to get back and get it photographed in the not too distant future. i will see if i can get it before they leaf out. they are strikling as white trunks against a background of winter gray. they feel like clean crisp side of the spectrum. always refreshing.
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As usual, tim, you take my breath away. You have more energy than Leo, who is snoozing contentedly, at the moment, on the foot of my bed at the moment. He’s not supposed to be there, and we both know it.
“trying to get the urgent out of the way so I can get to the more important.” At the moment it’s all urgent, and I’m having a hard time determining what is more important.
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Morning all. Spent yesterday thinking about Clyde’s question. As a lifelong city gal, most of my literal frames are window frames. Currently the neighboring house to the south is just 15 feet from mine, so much of my view is their home. So I’ll have to go down Bill’s path of figurative frames. Single parent, woman, reader, dog lover, cynic. I suppose those are the biggies!
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