I guess spiders are owed the credit for being the first ones on the net.  (Couldn’t resist.)  And thanks to the internet I believe this gal is a green Lynx spider.  Just look at her beautiful web she spun by one of our fountains!  Spider silk provides a combination of lightness, strength and elasticity that is superior to that of synthetic materials.  I was explaining to my little one that many people malign and fear spiders much as they do wolves … so quick to kill without realizing how beneficial they are.  I went back to try and get a better picture and her web was already gone.  I was so sad until I noticed one of her babies had taken up residence!  God bless the resilience of nature.  And God bless all our species that are vital to our environment.  There is famous speech attributed to the great Chief Seattle (Suquamish) which says:

“The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land.  But how can you buy or sell the sky?  the land?  The idea is strange to us.  If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

Every part of the earth is sacred to my people.  Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect.  All are holy in the memory and experience of my people.

We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins.  We are part of the earth and it is part of us.  The perfumed flowers are our sisters.  The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers.  The rocky crests, the dew in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man all belong to the same family.

The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors.  If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred.  Each glossy reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people.  The water’s murmur is the voice of my father’s father.

The rivers are our brothers.  They quench our thirst.  They carry our canoes and feed our children.  So you must give the rivers the kindness that you would give any brother.

If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life that it supports.  The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also received his last sigh.  The wind also gives our children the spirit of life.  So if we sell our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.

Will you teach your children what we have taught our children?  That the earth is our mother?  What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.

This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth.  All things are connected like the blood that unites us all.  Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it.  Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

One thing we know: our God is also your God.  The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.

Your destiny is a mystery to us.  What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered?  The wild horses tamed?  What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted with talking wires?  Where will the thicket be?  Gone!  Where will the eagle be? Gone!  And what is to say goodbye to the swift pony and then hunt?  The end of living and the beginning of survival.

When the last red man has vanished with this wilderness, and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here?  Will there be any of the spirit of my people left?

We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat.  So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it.  Care for it, as we have cared for it.  Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it.  Preserve the land for all children, and love it, as God loves us.

As we are part of the land, you too are part of the land.  This earth is precious to us.  It is also precious to you.

One thing we know – there is only one God.  No man, be he Red man or White man, can be apart.  We ARE all brothers after all.”

The English playwright William Shakespeare once famously said, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”  Sadly, his usually timeless words no longer always hold true.  Growers have bred the smell out of roses in their attempts to create the longer-lasting Frankenrose.  To me it is absolutely criminal.  The colors are beautiful but the joy of flowers for me is in their delicate, fragrant scent emanating from their velvet petals.  From the earliest times people from around the world have held the rose close to their heart.  The first known roses to have flourished were around 35 million years ago.  Hips have been found in Europe and petrified rose wreaths have been unearthed from ancient Egyptian tombs.  The Romans surpassed the Greeks when Nero, the infamous unspeakably cruel and hedonistic emperor in the first century A.D., dumped dumped tons of rose petals on his dinner guests.  Cleopartra had her living quarters filled with the petals of roses so that when Marc Antony met her he would long remember her for such opulence.  We find references to roses in Christian literature as well as in ancient Confucian and Buddhist religious documents.  In the Medieval Period the first known paintings of roses are on frescoes.  The earliest example was discovered in Crete around 1600 B.C.  The apothecary rose was first recorded in the 13th century near Provins, France.  It was believed to cure a variety of illnesses and was turned into jellies, powders and oils.  For me at least, I always associate the much maligned Marie-Antionette with the rose.  The era of modern roses was established with the introduction of the first hybrid tea rose, “La France”, by the French breeder Guillot in 1867.  My favorite color is dark blue, and I have planted “Blue Girl” roses in our yard which are actually lilac.  It is my understanding that the blue color is the last of the roses to be hybridized.  The symbolism of rose colors is steeped in tradition.  Red can represent love, beauty, courage, and respect.  White can represent innocence, purity, and reverence.  Pink can mean appreciation and gratitude.  Yellow can mean joy, gladness, and friendship.  (The state flower of Texas is the yellow rose; the “Friendship State.”)  Lavender can mean love at first sight, while orange can represent desire, fascination, or enthusiasm.  I have read stories about the legends of the blue rose — they represent true love and prosperity.  In some cultures blue roses are traditionally associated with “blue”, or royal, blood.  Thus the blue rose can also denote regal majesty and splendor.  Due to the absence of blue roses in nature they have come to symbolize mystery and the longing to attain the impossible.  I am fascinated with cross-breeding as long as it is natural — no dyes (as pictured above), no GMOs; nothing artificial.  My favorite color dark blue still has not been able to be naturally bred.  And the longing for it gives me something to desire.  Without the true roses’ sweet smell however the achievement will have fallen short.  My Grandmother Maris used to wear Rose Milk and I have never forgotten her scent.  I shall remain ever hopeful for my beloved rose to one day reveal herself:  with a smell sweeter than any lily and a color richer than the darkest blue in sky or sea.  Mystery and longing; something well worth the wait.  And how sweet it will be.