PRUNING
THE BIRCH TREES OUT BACK
What
are we really devoted to?
That
is the question.
--Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, “The Simplicity of the Carefree Life”
...and
her willingness to be wounded
Big
Ammachi, The Covenant of Water
Abraham
Verghese
All
morning pruning in birch trees,
on
three ladders. Lifting branches
maintaining
shade, pyramids reaching
towards
40 feet, lost in their bright
white
bark. Paper white, carrying
childhood
images of mid-west natives
in
books rowing in canoes knife-
hewn
from slender trunks
of
beauty. Jacquemontii Birch,
upright
like a boy’s journey to be
a
man, planted here in middle age
when
I was still permitted on ladders.
I
tell myself it’s a good ladder,
Sky
from the Retreat Fire
mostly
clear, but it’s getting warm,
inching
towards 90. I’ve got another
hour.
Big limbs down, on pavers.
Will
I do this again? The wood is soft.
Forgive
me for thinking that my life
is
all that matters, she thinks
from
the back seat of the bus.
Betula
is Latin for Birch.
Trunks 36 inches in diameter.
I
measured them. There are three,
planted
beside a Blood Good Maple,
and
the towering elder Blaze Maple
with
its crown towering over garden
and
deck of this sanctuary. Each tree
with
its own vision, repeating itself new
every
day. Pied beauty, all things counter,
Father
Hopkins. The pruner, sharp
in
my left hand, questions my eye,
never
my devotion. Table and stone,
shade-rested,
wait for friends. Karen
calls
me the old man on my birthday
kissing
me on the lips in the garden.
Betule
jacquemontii, upriht, pyrimadal
known
for its bright white back.
Yellow
fall foliage for fall and winter interest
Betula,
is Latin for birch.
Native
to western Himalayas,
the
whitest bark of all birch.
Fewer
vein pairs per leaf
Sometimes
call white-barked Himalayan birch.
First
described and named by Edouaard S. Spach
in
1841. A French botanist named the tree to honor
French
botanist and geologist Victor Jacquemont, best
known
for his travels in India and who died at 31.
Great
tree for shade garden
likes
snow in winter, likes water.
A
pioneer species, grow fast when young.
Seed
dispersal, crucial, over distance
and
in large numbers. Small, abundant seeds
strong
winds can carry a long ways, blanketing habitats.
Pasternak
himself is a birch tree
in
Doctor Zhivago. Closer, the tree of life
to
Anishinaabe culture. Wiigwaasabak.
Baskets
for berries. Medicine, shelter.
Hug
the birch tree, Mama,
I’m
your boy, I was never lost.
Bonhoeffer
says the old man
must
die. Writing on baptism,
on
one page, he says it four times:
The
old man must die.
The
pollen is thin, powdery,
and
green when maturing, turning yellow
or
brown when fully mature.
Birch
trees are wind pollinated,
and
a single tree can produce
5-and-a-half
million pollen grains.
The
pollen's texture makes it easy
for
wind to carry and release. Canopy
here,
a rest stop. Late Middle English
from
medieval Latin, canopeum,
ceremonial,
a mosquito net, curtains
from
the Greek. So far from home,
what
I mess I’ve made at my feet.
From
lopper to pruner to scissors,
my
old man’s hands set aside largest
limbs
for sculpture dream displays,
while
cutting limbs into basket-making
length,
others into twigs until they’ll
fit
inside garden pickup bins. All
crossing
limbs gone, what roses teach--
There
is the cross--And two birches
by
the gate are forced to step aside for it--
Yuri,
Doctor Z--summer hanging on, disputing
shorter
days, vision ever-new.
Jim
Bodeen
15
July—18 August 2024
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