Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Trees

It’s been an age


This is one of my favorite poems, at least as true today as it was when I posted it in November 2014. Today has been filled with a mixture of happiness and contentment, along with a lurking feeling that we’re all at sea, and the ship of state is stressed.

How do you see yourself and others today? I hope you’ll give yourself a great big smile before the day is done. Then give away at least one more smile. All we can count on is the present.

It’s been an age since I first met you—
You there, looking back at me
Three score years plus eleven to be exact
You haven’t changed a bit, they say
You and I know better
Sometimes I can’t believe it’s you
I hardly know you
Could we start over do you think?
Would it be as much fun?

I don’t know.
Was it fun for you?
Are you as puzzled as I am?
I seem to have more questions than answers today
Where and when did we find each other?
We seem to get along
But then we always did even when we didn’t
So who am I to say?

All I know is looking back at me
Wondering where the time has flown
And who this beautiful woman is
Smiling at me through the mirror

* * *

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 November 2014, reposted 18 June 2020
Photo Credit:  DAFraser, December 2012
Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon

Clouds of snowy ermine

Floating on water
Warm and welcoming
I drift through treetops
The color of brown
Graceful they sway
Lifting bare branches
Toward the sky
Elegant in winter
Garb accented with
Clouds of snowy ermine

Bits and pieces of this morning’s waking dream….all but the snowy ermine (stoat), too elegant to omit.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 January 2019
Photo found at

winter haiku

snow crackles
beneath my feet
an icy carpet


© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 February 2018
Photo found at

afternoon sun

late afternoon sun
warms exposed tree limbs
waiting for winter

Yesterday afternoon I walked outdoors in bearably cold weather. The bright sun was low in the sky, already dropping beneath tree tops. I could feel the warmth on my face, and wondered whether tree trunks and branches also felt the warmth.

How odd that trees shed their protective leaves for winter and face wind, sleet, snow and ice with bare limbs. We humans, however, pile on layers so thick that we’re scarcely recognizable in our winter combat suits. Especially as we age.

It’s challenging to see trees accept the coming winter stripped down. Naked. All their graceful, awkward or broken architecture clearly on display. Not as a sign of aging, but of strength. Perhaps even courage?

I’d like to think so. In part because I’ve always wanted to be a tree — or at least a poem lovely as a tree. A tree with roots sunk deep into the ground, finding rivers of water in underground sanctuaries untouched by human hands. Still producing fruit in its season.

Happy Friday and happy walking!

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 8 December 2017
Photo found at Shutterstock

rising moon


rising moon
reflects warm glow
through tangled limbs


midwinter sign of hope
discovered this morning on my iPad

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 January 2017
Photo taken in Soldotna, Alaska USA by wildernessgrl, 12 Jan 2017,
found on the Weather Underground App

Christmas at Longwood | Photos #1


Christmas at Longwood is always spectacular. This year we began our walk outside, about an hour before the sun dropped below the horizon. The bird house above was for the birds, of course! Read the rest of this entry »

One more ring

Longwood Gardens Woods - November 2014

20 November 2015

 One more ring around
The core of who I am
And will become

At a loss
I stand mute
Inhale this world Read the rest of this entry »

What the doctor ordered!


Conservatory at Longwood Gardens

Exactly what the doctor ordered! Fragrance, green-green-green, brilliant flowering shrubs and flowers, the sound of water dripping, running along the stream and falling over small falls. Orchid Extravaganza. Organ music in the ballroom. Lunch in the café. And more photos–see below. Read the rest of this entry »

unpretentious trees


unpretentious trees

rise above winding dirt trail

shade leafy green ferns

*  *  *

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 February 2015
Photo credit:  DAFraser, September 2014
Wildwood Trail in Forest Park, Portland, OR

low afternoon sun


low afternoon sun

illuminates interior–

hushed benediction

* * *

It’s October 2012.  My husband and I are with a couple of family members.  It’s late afternoon.  We’re walking back from the beach to the parking lot, on a trail through Oswald West State Park.  We pass trees in multiple configurations–from straight and upright to bent or twisted.  Many are covered with moss from thick fog that rolls in from the Pacific Ocean.

We pass several trees with hollowed-out space at the base of the trunk.  Some have twisted roots with pockets of air where the earth has eroded.  The trees reach high toward the sky, seeking light.  They seem to have been around for centuries, adjusting to the dim, seemingly haunted environment.

We’ve walked a good distance from the shoreline, away from rolling surf and the muffled sound of human voices.  Evening approaches.  The air takes on a hushed, cathedral-like quality.   Late afternoon sun filters into usually darkened spaces, and offers a silent benediction.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 January 2015
Photo Credit, DAFraser, October 2012
Oswald West State Park, Oregon

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