Cottonwood and Woolgathering
Many small impressions add to something—or not.
Cottonwood is everywhere this time of year in Minnesota. When driving at night, it looks like a snowstorm—light reflects off the airborne wooly-white so you ask yourself “What season is this?” Cottonwood catkins collect in inconvenient places (Example A). With all these loose seeds flying about, it’s a wonder Cottonwood trees are not sprouting from every bit of available soil.
Example A.
June cottonwood blizzards remind me of the collection of loose fears and wonderments that have been rolling through my brain lately. Little silences and absences that mean nothing until they gather into a solid-seeming impression. My friend whose cancer is in remission but whom I have not heard from for a long time. Couples I have not talked to together for many months. The out of work friend (s)—what are they doing and why have I not asked them?
As I combat cottonwood seeds today, I think I’ll see how my friend is doing.
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Image credit: Kirk Livingston
conversation is an engine 
Seeds of thought plant actions. Perhaps you shall talk to those friends now that you’ve planted the cottony seeds.
Sand Salt Moon
June 4, 2015 at 9:58 am
Yes. I think I will. Thanks.
kirkistan
June 4, 2015 at 10:28 am
silences also speak, and at times we need them to assess and listen to what is not verbal, more subtle, thought-filled….and through them we grow, as you are in naming what is happening to you…and waiting…and we all wish you well
weisserwatercolours
June 4, 2015 at 2:58 pm
Thanks for the thoughtful comment. I’ve long been curious about what happens in the silences and waitings and between-times in our lives. It would be nice to let each other into those times but that would take courage. Or insistence. But the best friends are those that stand with you while you wait. Thanks again.
kirkistan
June 4, 2015 at 3:27 pm