The last cattails lose their upholstery
in shadblow time
Men in camouflage work their turkey calls
in shadblow time
I found a flattened snake curled like an ampersand
in shadblow time
I read about the army interrogator who put a bullet through her head
in shadblow time
The world first learned about Abu Ghraib
in shadblow time
Oh sweet Canada Canada Canada sings the white-throated sparrow
in shadblow time
The shocking red of the first tanager
in shadblow time
The talk shows were full of rage
in shadblow time
***
Shadblow, also known as shadbush, Juneberry, sarvis, and serviceberry, is a small tree in the Amelanchier genus native to the woodlands of eastern North America. It can be hard to identify due to hybridization between species: primarily A. arborea, A. humilis, and A. canadensis. It is one of the first native trees to flower in the spring, producing delicious fruit in early summer that tastes like a cross between blueberries and cherries. In Plummer’s Hollow, as in much of the folded Appalachians, it seems fondest of the most acid, rockiest soils, growing as a spottily abundant member of the chestnut oak – red oak – pitch pine – mountain laurel forest type.
Tomorrow is the last day to submit links for the next Festival of the Trees, which will feature posts on flowering trees.
I love this, the way the mind keeps, at every repetition, trying to make “shadblow” into “shadow”, but being caught up short by that intractable ‘b’ every time.
I didn’t even think of that. Glad you found it an asset rather than a liability.
ooff…
Smilodon stabs sloth
in shadblow time.
Shadblow time as deep time? Why not!
interesting, and rich, in a way…. deep time, though, seems more interesting than Abu Ghraib
Perhaps so. Thanks for the comment.
Perfect. The way you bring in the horror quietly, placing it gently alongside the beauty of the shadblow tree and the repeated rhythm of the refrain. That’s life, isn’t it?
I’d like to think so. I tried watching a horror movie tonight on Hulu.com, but I just couldn’t take it – all yin, no yang.
The able juxtaposition of nature and war here strongly reminds me of my earliest experience of it — Art Garfunkel’s antiwar counterpoint added to Scarborough Fair in 1966.
I’m not familiar with that version. I’ve always like the song, though.
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