Tag: Loss

Embracing Joy And Grief

As March progressed, I anticipated and looked for signs of Spring. I saw many and knew more would be coming…more flowers blooming…birds singing and nesting. But, there was also a gnawing at my soul in the background of the beauty. My mother’s death date approached, March 25th. It has been 15 years since her death and the pain of grief has lessened. But, I want to hug her and share my life with her and I want her to see the physical beauty she left the world. The tears are coming as I write this even though I have been thinking about writing about it for quite a while.

On the other hand, I am glad my mother is not here to see the destruction of our country. She who supported civil rights with her body and soul…she who always rooted for the underdog. She was a proud American and she voted. I’m sure that if she saw the video of the woman being taken away by unidentified men to be locked up and silenced, she would have felt that woman’s fear in empathy.

A couple of days ago, March 29th, I attended a Birthday party for my friend Joan who was turning 80 that very day. This was also my Mother’s birthday. As we sang Happy Birthday to Joan, I was also singing to my mother. My mother’s death was just 4 days before her birthday and as she lay comatose on life support, we had sung Happy Birthday to her.

Okay! Enough grief for now! Here comes the Joy. In my blog posts of April 2019 and March 2021 I shared photos and a few words on one of my mother’s legacies, the lovely purple spiderworts she transplanted from her yard to mine over 20 years ago. From a literal handful of plants to the current abundance of them is one of nature’s miracles. What started as one purple clump in the backyard has now spread all over the yard and into the front yard. And both my brother and my friend Laura have transplanted some from my yard into their yards, where they are now flourishing.

As you look at these photos, remember that a small, positive action can take hold and grow. This is something to remember as we navigate our way through the coming months.

Beauty Among The Rocks

At The Trunk Of The Bur Oak

Near The Rotting Hackberry Stump

Near Philosopher’s Rock

Growing Low To The Ground

Pink Colored With Bee Gathering Pollen

With A Tiny Bee

With A Big Bee

So Pretty!

And there are many more photos of the flowers that I will not publish here…the flowers next to yellow dandelions …some next to orange crossvine blooms…the ones I can see in the front yard outside my office window…the view of them through my kitchen window…

May the natural world give you peace and strength each day. And remember that each positive act you take may grow and spread

Photos by B. McCreary taken in 2025

Thankful For A Single Tree

Bald Cypress

                I look at trees every day as a birdwatcher, but I don’t really “see” the trees.  Recently, a friend from Colorado has been e-mailing me of her encounters with various trees and this has prompted me to look at trees a bit closer.  Our native trees have been beautiful this fall. Not just beautiful, but spectacular: the brilliant yellow of the cedar elms and the big tooth maples; the reds of the cypress and the Texas red oak; the intense scarlet of the aptly named flame leaf sumac.

                 I had intended for this month’s blog to be a celebration of central Texas trees showing the rest of the country that:  “Yes, we do have seasons down here.” Driving down nearby streets, the colors would catch my eye and I would tell myself, “I will come back tomorrow and take photos of that tree.”  I kept telling myself I was going to do this, but I kept putting it off. Then, a few days ago I noticed that the tree colors were less vibrant and more leaves were falling off the trees. I realized I was missing, may have already missed, my opportunity. I thought I had already learned my lesson years ago when I did a lot of nature photography:  Take the photo now! “The sky will not look like this tomorrow.”  “That bird may not be in this spot tomorrow.”  

                This is a pattern of mine throughout my life, to plan to do something and then not follow through and then the opportunity has passed, never to return. There is a feeling of shame associated with this habit of procrastination, and a feeling of sadness.   

                On the 13th of this month while surfing the internet, I learned of the death of author Gary Svee. He was someone I had intended to contact.  I wanted to ask him about why he wrote what he did about an ancestor of mine.  I had been given a phone number of someone who knew him and was so anxious about calling a stranger out of the blue that I kept putting this off.  I put it off for a year and a half. Now it is too late.

                I went to his online memorial page and left a note. On the page it said that people were being asked to donate money to plant a tree in his memory. So, I did that.  There is some sort of meaningful connection between the tree leaves transitioning and people transitioning that I am trying to grasp as I write this.  The book of fiction this man wrote was entitled Single Tree and painted a sympathetic portrait of part of my family tree, a great, great uncle.   I wanted to thank him, whether or not my thanks would have been welcome by him. But, I didn’t do this. He will never know what his book meant to me. Maybe he wouldn’t have cared.  I cried when I read that he had died even though I had never met the man. I think maybe I cried more in disappointment at myself.

                So, I share with you here some of Austin’s color and my advice to take action. Colors don’t last. Lives don’t last.

*Obituary for Gary Svee can be found at:

https://smithfuneralchapels.com/book-of-memories/3924750/Svee-Gary/

(Tree photos by Betty McCreary)

Prairie flame leaf sumac
Sycamore- leaf snowbell
Big tooth maple