tree | reverse threading

December 9, 2025
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

a tree again. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the day I looked out the sunroom window and saw two black-capped chickadees perched on the-branch-we-brought-out-of-our-living-room was the day i realized all was well. this beautiful branch – from the big old tree in our front yard – was having a renaissance. back in the great outdoors, it was experiencing life – all over again, in a new way.

we missed the branch as soon as we removed it from the living room. it had been there for four years – ever since the water main in our yard burst and the ultra-supersized equipment brought in knocked this big branch off our beloved tree. we pulled it aside and then brought it in, putting it in a big clay pot and right next to the front window, bedazzled with happy lights and in a place of honor.

it was our christmas tree that year and has had a variety of ornaments on it each holiday season since – old vintage shiny brites, silver and glitter silver round balls, crystals. it has held a metal star and a peace sign throughout the year and it has been a tad bit difficult to maneuver around the entire time. regardless, we kept it there – in spite of the difficulty to open or close the mini blinds and open or close the windows. to sit in the recliner next to the tree, one had to be mindful of the little branches blocking the way, waiting to poke one’s eye out. nevertheless, we were dedicated to this tree in our living room, even though it truly took up a lot of space.

this year – as we started our zealous clearing-out, we decided it was time for the tree to move outside and take up a new place on the deck, where we could see it out the sunroom windows. d secured it to the deckboards and the railing and we placed new happy lights on it, along with an outdoor timer so it would greet us at every dusk.

i had a few moments – staring at the blank spot in the living room where the tree had taken up soooo much space – missing it. we will fill the spot temporarily with a little wrought iron table and a curly corkscrew rush plant — which will hopefully last through the winter. but in the long run? i’m not sure. it is kind of nice to be able to open and close the miniblinds without ducking or trying to avoid breaking smaller branches.

my temporary sorrow – at change – eased when i looked out the sunroom window and saw these two chickadees sitting on our old broken branch. one flew away and another landed. i could practically hear the branch sighing, its soul happy. and why not? it was a tree again.

life, change, renewal.

there are many ways to learn lessons.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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April 30, 2025
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

the exquisite. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

in these days we are waking very early. our old dogga is hungry, maybe a little stiff, needing to get up and get us moving. and so we do. we open blinds and let the sun rise through our windows. we sit with our coffee against pillows in a bed we have now lowered closer to the floor for dogga. we listen to the birds and our pond gurgling. it is quiet. really quite exquisite.

we wake to the beautiful barebones of this universe – and sit in appreciation, silent as we listen and absorb the dawn of this next day. we are both very, very aware of this gift of time, this gift of stillness. we revel in the simplest of things for it is the simplest of things with which we surround ourselves; our budget is squishy-tight and we try our best to abide by the premise of ‘less is more’.

and it is in those moments – the moments of rays across our quilt, coffee in our hands, dogga at our feet – the moments of listening – that i can’t understand.

i can’t understand how anyone – particularly any person in any influential position of leadership – can wake up in the morning with evil-agendized intent in their heart. i can’t understand the superficiality of wanting-it-all, needing-it-all, having-it-all. i can’t grok the indecency of plotting against persons, peoples, missions, goodness.

i wonder how it is that one can wake so conversely differently, full of dreadful scheming. i wonder how it is that those people are of the same humankind. i wonder what twisted them, what broke their connection to morality, what tore the silken filaments of the recognition of unconditional beauty from them. what maelstrom enveloped their souls and trapped them in an eddy of cruelty.

we sit on the deck and look to the sky through the mixup of branches above us to the north. dogga lays nearby and the sun is sinking lower, the dusk sky an ombré canvas.

and – like many of you, i suppose – i still can’t understand. and it still doesn’t feel real.

but it is. and there are those – waking up yesterday, today, and – with nothing stopping them – likely, tomorrow – the textures of our woven universe unimportant, their own needs driving corrupt obsessions of power and control, their view of the world – this country – dark, their actions ruthless and cavalier, each of them impervious to the exquisite.

and the barebones of the universe sigh deeply, grief spilling into the technicolored chiaroscuro sky of dawn, the ink of dusk.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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February 19, 2024
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

love and family. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

every single time. my sweet momma and poppo would stand at the door or in the driveway or on the sidewalk or, even, inside, parting the curtains to look out. they would roll down the window at departures. they would roll down the windows if they were driving away. every single time. they would hold up their hands in the american sign language sign for “i love you” as we would back out, pull away, drive down the road, head into the terminal. every single time.

i believe they know that we have all continued their tradition. every single time.

and, no matter what person in their family – in all the circles of nuclear and extended family – in children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren – in all the definitions of family – birthed, adopted, married into, children-by-love-in-laws – they would remind that person “i love you” in leaving. so that you wouldn’t forget.

and you couldn’t. forget. because you could see them – in your mind’s eye – standing there – hand held up – misty tears on their faces.

we’ve passed this downed tree on the trail many, many times. and yet, this was the first time i saw it. at just the right time, i could see the sign. i ran through the underbrush to get a photograph and thanked the universe for the reminder.

love is. family is. all-embracing. they don’t draw lines in the sand. they don’t parse out biological dna strands. and they don’t minimize the giant commitment that comes with giving birth, adopting, becoming a step-parent. they don’t measure one against the other. they don’t ignore the worrying and the angsting and the supporting and the relationship-building that comes with every one of those. because love is love. and a family – filled with complex concentric and overlapping circles – understands that – that love is love.

even the day – when i was young and my siblings told me i was “cesarean” – and i thought i was from another country, no less – i had no worries that i was not an integral and loved part of my family. and i was only eight. but i knew that being in a family is also a decision. so, i was not concerned that my cesarean-ish-ness would make me peripheral, would make me less-than, would place me under any different heading than the ancestral family.

as we go through life we are fortunate enough to find both people who align with us and people who don’t. we entertain conversation and animated debate and learn from each other. we glimpse tiny pieces of worlds we do not know from these others around us and are better for that. we hold each other in respect and with affection. and these people – these friends – our community – become family as well.

and we look to each other to learn how the other lives. we learn about the tight web that holds us all dear to another. we learn – sometimes – that isn’t the case and we don’t hold tight. we learn we share the same core family values. though – sometimes – we learn we don’t. we learn about the choices others make in their lives and glean from them, taking with us lessons about life. though – sometimes – we don’t. and we learn to open our hearts and wrap each new person in our family in love. but – sometimes – we think there are people who don’t count, so we don’t.

and those don’ts make people draw lines in the sand to exclude others. those don’ts make people haughty and rejecting. those don’ts undermine relationships and love. those don’ts destroy families.

what a waste of time – and life – all those don’ts.

my sweet momma and poppo stood with their hands up signing “i love you” each and every time. even their little family continued to grow…because they chose it. the dna of their ancestry passes love of one another – without exception – generation to generation.

because love and family are all-embracing. they are one and the same.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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January 30, 2024
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

you are a tree. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it can’t be easy to be the lone tree in a big, big farmfield. the wind will batter you. the sun will parch you. the snow and ice will pile next to your trunk and bend your limbs down low. the rain will pummel you. you will be tested and you must be steadfast. your very presence may be questioned; it would be easier to plow straight lines than to plow around you.

but consider this: the birds will flock to you. any creatures needing shade or shelter will curl up under your canopy. you will exhale clean oxygen. and wildflowers and grasses will grow at your base. you will interrupt the horizon line with your very beautiful tree shape. you will give visual perspective to the vast fields.

and so you stand there – alone. ready to greet the next day and the next. despite it all.

you know it would be easier if there were other trees standing with you – perhaps a simple stand of trees or maybe a small woods or forest. you know it would be easier if there were even just one other bush or plant holding vigil with you in the big field. you know it would be easier if the west winds would not assail you, you with nothing to block their assault.

and even if the elements push on you, if the farmer ponders your value, if the aloneness feels void of hope, you keep standing.

because you know that you are a tree and that your truth matters and that your presence counts.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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September 8, 2023
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

holding on. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

because we hike these trails often, we notice subtle changes. new sprouts, thicker vegetation, fallen trees, vole-holes on the path.

this day we noticed this large limb – suspended. it had fallen. because we’ve had large limbs fall in our yard, we know that their size – particularly from far away – belies their weight. this broken branch, even dead wood, had to be mighty heavy.

and yet – the next tree over caught it and was holding on. merely three points of contact, like one hand and two feet on a ladder, these three little v’s where significantly smaller branches met. three points. and so, we will watch it. we wonder how – nestled into the other tree – it happened to fall just right. we wonder how long it will be there – high up in the other trees that show no sign of leafing, of life.

support doesn’t take much. it’s astounding to walk in forests and see evidence of mighty holding up mighty, mighty holding up small, small holding up mighty. nature caring for nature.

i stood staring at the tree from the trail. i looked at david, also staring. we know that the physics of how this branch fell into these three points, how it distributed the weight, must play into why it was held there. but as i stood there i could only think about how that could work in the people-world.

points of contact. support. extending branches of encouragement, reassurance, compassion – these could make all the difference for others. how often i have seen a plato-esque meme on social media reminding us to be kind – for everyone we meet is fighting a battle we know nothing about.

big limbs holding tiny branches. tiny branches holding big limbs.

points of contact.

they will hold a fallen tree in the woods. they will hold you stable on a ladder. they will hold your heart steady.

and – in this forest of humankind – at any given moment, you might find you are one of someone else’s branches, the bridge between falling and held, the difference between holding on and letting go.

*****