Leatherflower. 48”x60” oil on canvas 2014. Collection of Dr. and Mrs. Robert Lee
A new year begins. 2025. In my posts I explore nature, history, art, religion and language. Not necessarily in that order. This new year, this 2025 I plan on spending as much time as possible in the woods, on the water, in front of the easel and in front of the computer. Hopefully by the end of the year I will have created and presented a comprehensive body of work. A multimedia explanation of my world view. We will see. It’s early in the year.
The last couple of days I ventured out into a couple of places I have not seen in a while. Both of these sites are public access points to maritime forests. On Saturday, January 4, I accompanied friends Lisa Rinaman, Maria Hayne and Andrea Rial Coppola on a hike at Crooked River State Park, St. Mary’s, Georgia. This lovely park is directly across the Cumberland River from Cumberland Island.
Crooked River State Park. St. Mary’s, Georgia January 4, 2025
On Sunday I traveled alone to Cedar Point Preserve, part of the Timucuan Ecological and Historical Preserve, Duval County, Florida. The last time I was on that trail was a dozen or so years ago. Back then I found myself inundated with yellow-flies and ticks. Certainly not a friendly mid-summer place to be. On a cool winter day it was another story. The pine forest floor was carpeted raw sienna with a fresh layer of straw. Idyllic. A garden.
I’m starting this year with a new attitude. Not going so far as to say the word, resolution, but I intend to do better. Make more images, write more, see more, do more. At this point, it’s really not an option. Not only for income, for sure money is a constant necessity, but also for me. My reason for being is wrapped up in the act of doing and part of that is making. It’s my life.
Witch’s Broom. Cedar Point Preserve. January 5, 2025
Each time I venture into the wild I learn something. More often than not, the pre-conceived notion for my foray is usurped by reality. Paths lead me to places I’ve been before yet they show me a new vista. Something catches me off-guard. A plant, an horizon, a chunk of wood. I am met on the trail by a new lesson from the wilds.
Then sometimes I stumble upon old friends. Views I’ve seen before. Constants in our fleeting landscape. Stalwarts. `
In this digital age curating our past is as easy as breathing. In minutes with the help of search clues I can look at my photographs from the past.
Crooked River Cedar 2018
Crooked River Cedar 2025
Browsing my photo history I landed on the image taken in 2018 of the same cedar tree. I was shocked at how little it had changed in seven years.
A few weeks ago I participated in an on-line workshop hosted by writer/naturalist Janisse Ray. Metaphor was the subject of the morning. I learned new things and was reacquainted with old ideas. After spending time with Janisse in cyber-land I am more attuned to seeking metaphor, not only in my own writing but observing the device in our social constructs. This leads me back to the image above of a Witch’s Broom.
I’ll preface my remarks with a bit of a disclaimer. At least an admonition, or better yet, a proclamation. Some of my best friends are Witches. Any remarks I present are from historical context and meant as no ill-will toward the Wiccan community.
The trail at Cedar Point was lovely. Nice and even. Soft with new pine straw. Well kept with few roots and ruts. The ease of walking allowed me to look up and about. A luxury for my ailing eyes and numb toes. Balance and sight issues find me clutching a cane more often than not.
So, I looked around. Twists and tangles of smilax and woodbine drew my eyes up through the dense understory. My sight inched from the tiny ground blueberries and their swollen buds (vaccinium species) through the taller gallberry stems (Ilex glabra.) The Saw Palmetto spears (Serenoa repens) pushed my eyes into the tangles of Smilax. The pines were thick. Not sure exactly what species but I know the majority were longleaf (Pinus palustris.) The varied cones on the floor told me that there were some loblolly mixed in.
I felt the winter sun on my face as it peeked through the pine shadows. Looked up into the canopy. Deep breaths. Then I spotted it. A dark mass high up in a pine a few hundred yards in the distance. I knew immediately what it was. A Witch’s Broom.
Now an again, in woody plants, especially trees there is an anomaly. A place on the trunk where for one reason or another the tree decides to change its structure. The organized, elegant spacing of the branching pattern is interrupted by a ball of stems and foliage. The pine needles seemed as if they were bunched into a sort of bouquet.
These tight balls of stems and leaves form perfect nesting habitat for various forest creatures. Squirrels often build nests within these deformities as do a variety of birds. The structure tends to excite and inspire the naturalist when observed.
I guess I understand why these growths are called Witch’s brooms. Ancient lore has witch’s brooms hung in houses with bristles facing upward in order to ward off evil spirits. That made some sort of sense. In nature the bristles of the besom naturally point upward. Certainly just being out in the woods is a good step in warding off evil spirits. Certainly works for me.
In light of the metaphor there is certainly little trouble in finding reasonable connections with the broom. The ideas of sweeping, cleaning, disturbing, dusting come to mind. Also clearing cobwebs could be done with a broom.
Witches received a bad rap dating from as early as the fifteenth century in Europe then and later in the American colonies. Beginning in the late seventeenth century bands of marauding townsfolk armed with pitchforks and torches tracked down people who were thought to be conspiring with the Devil. These fears were brought on by both an outbreak of Smallpox along with waring natives nearby. Fear ruled and spread like wildfire. Women were attacked more often than men because the Puritanical tradition held them as weaker than men and more likely to be led astray by the forces of evil.
We have heard the term “Witch Hunt” used often during the last half decade. There is an implicit irony in the use of this metaphor, especially in the current news cycles. There are many similarities with the practice during the seventeenth century in the colonies and twenty-first century United States. The most significant difference between then and now is that the term is being used by a person who has used the tactics from Salem in order to achieve the highest office in the land. Distortions of the truth, blaming of innocents, the constant vilification of those with whom you have a philosophical differences.
Perhaps the future will bring light to new metaphor. Perhaps a Witches Broom will sweep the insanity from the corners of our country. Perhaps logic and reason will return to this land.
I think I saw that same tree last year. Melissa and I were out there as I was asked to check on possible eagles nest in the area. I have started to volunteer for the Audubon society . So I was looking for a mass up in trees and naturally it caught my eye.
A well-turned metaphor indeed.