Magnoliaceae - Magnolia Family
"A Year With the Trees" - Tree Number 58
Tulip Poplar
Lirodendron tulipifera
As I walk by the giant Tulip tree, the leaves blow in the wind.
The sound of fall's crackling leaves surrounding me.
The leaves fall over my body on their way to earth.
I pause as the leaves drift over and around me.
The Tulip tree reminding me to take the time to pause; to enjoy the moment.
The Tulip Tree can be identified in the winter by looking for a straight and tall tree that still has dried brown seed holders hanging up high in the tree.
For the love of the trees,
Becky
"A Year With the Trees" - Tree Number 58
Tulip Poplar
Lirodendron tulipifera
Spring
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Tulip poplar in the spring in North Carolina
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Summer
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The Tulip Poplar Tree in July. Photo by Robert Priddy
www.RobertPriddyPhoto.com |
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| The Tulip Poplar flower. These flowers attract birds including hummingbirds, cardinals, finches. |
Fall
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| The Yellow Poplar Tree in the Fall |
As I walk by the giant Tulip tree, the leaves blow in the wind.
The sound of fall's crackling leaves surrounding me.
The leaves fall over my body on their way to earth.
I pause as the leaves drift over and around me.
The Tulip tree reminding me to take the time to pause; to enjoy the moment.
Winter
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| The Tulip Tree dried seed holder |
from my journal while at Tremont in the Smoky Mountain National Park
A wooden rocking chair seems to beckon to me onto the porch. I sit down, close my eyes, and take a deep cleansing breath. As I open my eyes, I see the Smoky mountains surround me; they are encased in an evening fog. The air is cool, almost cold as I feel the air enter my lungs. I can not seem to get enough of the clean air inside of me. It is like my body has been waiting for this moment for hours or days.
I hear only sounds of nature. The sound of water as it flows over rocks and boulders, the sound of dripping water as it falls from the branches of the trees onto the earth. There are sounds of bird chatter and calls.
I see Hemlocks, sweetgums, oaks, tulip poplars, sycamores, and ironwoods shrouded in mist. A bird flies by as I rock in this chair.
I am aware of my breath and my heart beating as I sit here. I am the only human in sight. Why do I let so many days go by in my life that I do not still my body enough to hear my own heart beating or listen to my breath as it goes in and out? I am grateful for this quiet winter's day in the Smokies. Find your moment.
A wooden rocking chair seems to beckon to me onto the porch. I sit down, close my eyes, and take a deep cleansing breath. As I open my eyes, I see the Smoky mountains surround me; they are encased in an evening fog. The air is cool, almost cold as I feel the air enter my lungs. I can not seem to get enough of the clean air inside of me. It is like my body has been waiting for this moment for hours or days.
I hear only sounds of nature. The sound of water as it flows over rocks and boulders, the sound of dripping water as it falls from the branches of the trees onto the earth. There are sounds of bird chatter and calls.
I see Hemlocks, sweetgums, oaks, tulip poplars, sycamores, and ironwoods shrouded in mist. A bird flies by as I rock in this chair.
I am aware of my breath and my heart beating as I sit here. I am the only human in sight. Why do I let so many days go by in my life that I do not still my body enough to hear my own heart beating or listen to my breath as it goes in and out? I am grateful for this quiet winter's day in the Smokies. Find your moment.
For the love of the trees,
Becky
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| From my journal |
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