Barking Up the Wrong Tree

The nurse at the MRI place said my roommate's procedure would take twenty or thirty minutes.  
But after sitting on those hard waiting room chairs for just five minutes, I knew my back would never make it.

So I stepped outside with my camera to see what I could find to keep busy.  The tall, bronzed glass medical building sported a tiny lawn out front with a half dozen palm trees and two eucalyptus trees, and I set to work.  (And it's a good thing, cuz it took well over an hour.)

As I set about looking for photos to shoot of these rather ordinary subjects (much to the curiosity of the many passers-by!) tonight’s blog began to stir and swim and form in my mind.

I’ve always been fascinated by the bark of trees.  All kinds of trees.   

And as I walked slowly around the larger of the two eucalyptus trees, observing, touching, caressing it, oblivious to the world around me, I was soon draw out of myself to find two little  girls (ages about four and five) following me around the tree, touching and observing and examining as well, and following my actions carefully.

Their mother called them away from the crazy tree lady in a strong Spanish accent of southern Central America.  They reluctantly left their examination of the tree, trailing their fingers to the last moment possible before they let go.

And I turned my focus back to my trees.

At first glance one of the palm trees looks like just a run-of-the-mill palm.  Tall and slen- der with long fronds umbrella-ing out atop.  But at closer look, ahh,…the texture!

And where the branch falls off as the tree grows taller, it leaves a scar of sorts behind.  Something you just take for granted on a palm.  But look at it from another angle, and it becomes a work of art.

Turn the lens skyward, and the rough, fibrous bark becomes  ringed layers of burnished silver filigree.

It's all in how you look at things.  Just as life.  So much of what we perceive in life depends on what we as observers bring to the table.   You get out of it what you put into it.

 

I am certain that nobody today enjoyed those trees as much as I did.  

And to think that I too, would have missed out on the beauty but for the terrible pain I've had all week in my back!   All because I couldn't sit still any longer on those hard waiting room chairs!

An incompletely torn off palm branch leaves an interesting flaw.  

Something that a finicky gardener would never have left behind.  But I found joy in the flaw.

A similar flaw, from a different angle, in more direct sunlight gives a much more dramatic flare, and a whole different feel to the photo.

The rough, chaotic bark of the nearby eucalyptus tree, in com- parison to the very staid and stately palm, looks like the flotsam on a beach after a hurricane!  It looks as though the poor thing has been ravaged.

But this scraggly, rough bark of the eucalyptus hides the silky, soft under bark of the tree that in our part of the world comes in soft military camouflage colors.

And in other parts of the world, it often comes in even wilder colors!

How can anyone think such a thing of beauty can be just an accident of nature?!

Surely 'Someone' painted this work of art by hand!  Or created the DNA code that would paint this beauty just for our pleasure.

Around the corner from the palm and eucalyptus trees was another tree.  I'm not sure of the name of the tree, but it has large, palmate leaves and I've seen it (in much smaller sizes) as a house plant.  This one had lost a limb.

From the size of it, it was a good sized branch at the time of its amputation.  The tree appears to have worked hard to heal itself.  To grow back over to cover its bare, vulnerable spot.

Of course, it never could grow back to its natural form any more than we can.  But it did its best, and it attained an interesting replacement form.  People are like that.  We pick up scars as we have our major pains and losses in our lives.  And just like trees, sometimes we are more successful than others at recovering from the catastrophes or heartaches that help form our lives.

I remember so often, as a child, coming across trees with scars left by having to grow over barbed wire thoughtlessly attached to the tree.  It always made my child-like heart ache so - almost like a physical pain - to see scars like that.

I still can often 'see' or feel the invisible scars left in people I come across.  Scars left deep in their bark by the barbed wire of their past.  It's a gift I do not enjoy, nor can I explain.  And it still gives me a physical pain.  I would give anything to have this 'gift' taken away.  But I guess it does help me be a more compassionate person...

It all makes me marvel eternally at how fortunate we are to have a loving Father who knows every scar from every last palm branch, every amputated branch and every carelessly placed piece of barbed wire in our souls.


And only He can heal the impurities and imperfections in our lives and in our hearts.


 He heals the brokenhearted
   and binds up their wounds.   Psalms 147:3

Lessons From Napa

This past July, I had the honor of driving to Napa to witness the marriage of my two friends, Ryan and Arianna. When they first announced their engagement last year, we were all thrilled, though not surprised. You could not find a better matched couple. And we also knew that the wedding would be a thing of beauty. Nobody is more creative and organized when planning an event than Ryan. And Arianna mahttp://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7484988945632615086&postID=4758186420970030452tches his talents.


I wish I could have spent a week up there in Napa so I could enjoy the sights and work on my photography skills. But this trip, time didn’t allow. I drove up with friends leaving early Saturday morning, so those involved would be there in time for the rehearsal that afternoon.


As promised, the wedding and reception Sunday afternoon were the things of fairy tales. Sadly, Nick had to work the next morning, so we had to leave right after the reception for the seven-hour ride back to reality.




But we did manage to slip away Sunday morning, before the wedding, and drive up into the beautiful, world-renowned Napa Valley wine country. 

With the windows down and wind blowing through our hair, we cruised up Highway 29, marveling at the beauty of the vineyards as well as some of the incredible architecture of the old farmhouses and wineries.


Years ago there used to be vineyards down here in southern California, when eastern San Bernardino County still belonged to the farmers. But real estate developers have taken over and bought out almost all of the dairy farmers and wineries now. So I don’t often see grape vines.


Cruising through the cool morning air, we passed vineyards of all stages. Some old and gnarled, others young and slender, and still others so newly planted their bases were still wrapped in protective, white plastic, tube-type shelters. 

As we cruised by, they formed those incredible ever-moving rows of vines, always geometr-ically marching to keep up with the passing viewers, in an almost hypnotic manner.


Oddly enough, those moving rows of alternating white and dark, bordered by mature vineyards took me back to the little New Testaments we studied in Catechism classes in at St. Mary‘s School in junior high. You may have seen them: small, paperbacks with black and white newsprint covers and ‘The Good News’ emblazoned across the front in red.


My mind turned to the parables we studied. The story in the book of Matthew of the vineyard owner who offered laborers at different times of the day and paid them all the same… And the one in the gospel of Mark about the owner who rents out his vineyard and the renters kill the messenger he sends to collect the rent…


And then the one in Luke which is probably most often referenced. The one that talks about the fig tree a man had in his vineyard. After three years when it hadn’t borne fruit, he intended to cut it down. But the vineyard worker begged him to give it another chance - one more year. He would dig around it and fertilize it and give it one more chance to bear fruit.


Records show that people were cultivating grapes as far back as at least 5000 BC. And a quick check of the New International Version of the Bible notes 186 references to vines or vineyards.


Vines and vineyards appear in many parables of Jesus’ time because He spoke in terms the people could easily understand. It gave them a connection to, and an instant understanding of many of the parables when he used the things common in their daily lives.

Few of the kids being raised in this generation have ever seen or will ever see a grape vine. But at least with the internet, photos and information abound. In the wake of our quick Napa run, there are so many more things about vines and vineyards I wanted to learn.


For one, I always pictured grape vines as dangling down from a trellis or other similar support. But I noticed the grape vines in Napa growing upward rather than dangling down.


This roused my curiosity, so I did a little digging, and discovered that the stereotypical down-growing grapes are vitis labrusca, which are native to North America. These are generally hardier and include the Concord grape most commonly used in grape juice and jelly-making.

The funny candelabra- or menorah-like grape vines of Napa Valley are of the species vitis vinifera, native to the wine countries of Europe.


Why do I tell you this? There is a good reason. You see, the v. viniferous (the European wine grapes) make great wines, but they are less hardy varieties, and are very susceptible to a variety of diseases native to North America soil. So what do you do if you want to grow those great wine grapes here in the U.S.? The Muscatels, Rieslings, Chardonnays and Zinfandels?


Well, some clever vintner figured out that if you take a hardy American vine and cut it off a few inches above the root and graft your European vine onto the American rootstock, you can talk that vine into becoming one with the disease-resistant root and grow really great wine grapes!


Which, of course leads directly to the correlation of God being our “root” that holds us firmly in place and gives us life. It takes me back to the years of working at summer camp and leading out in song service.


He is the Vine and we are the branches, his banner over me is love…


The vine cannot grow in the disease-ridden soil unless it draws its nourishment through the hardy rootstock.




So what happens when you have this sturdy root and you graft a tender vine onto the sturdy rootstock? If the vintner just grafted it and let it go on its own, the vine would start growing and branching out with a number of spindly vines, each too weak to support the load of its fruits.


So the wise, vintner knows he needs to gently rub off any new bud that starts growing out from the vine in that first year. The trunk can’t get sidetracked and wander off task, but is urged to put all of its energy into reaching heavenward. That’s its only job in the first year - to reach for heaven.


At the end of the first year, you’ll have a long, straight vine that probably extends up higher than the trellis wires. It is then pruned back to about the height of the desired wire. This will do two things to that long, spindly vine. First, it will stop it from getting taller and spindlier (if that’s a word.) So now it can only grow sturdier and stronger.


And secondly, if you know anything about pruning, it causes the stem to send shoots out the sides instead of the single one that was cut off. It branches out.


Now, you have to be patient if you are a vintner. Already you’ve spent a whole year just being sure this new vine grows straight and tall. Then you prune it. 

The entire second year you will spend teaching the vine buds that have come to replace the first year’s single strand to grow outward along the supporting wire.


Jesus is the vine and we are the branches…, his banner over me is love…

Any little buds that crop out and try to sidetrack the proper growth are rubbed or cut off early, and the vine still isn’t allowed to think about branching out or even bearing fruit. 

It spends that entire second year thickening and strengthening the vine (that trunk, that rises from the hardy rootstock), and branching outward along the guide wire in branches, or cordons.


It’s only in the third year that it begins to produce the fruit for which the vintner has been so patiently waiting. I wonder if the same is true of figs? It would better explain the story in Luke 13 where the man says, “It’s been three years, and it does not produce fruit. Maybe I should cut it down so it doesn’t waste soil.”


Beside grafting the cane onto the Rootstock and carefully tending it for two years, there are other considerations that have already gone into the process of growing the fruit of the vine. And this kind of scares the numerophobe in me, but a lot of math also goes into the process.


The vintner plants each grape vine in a very specific location (as does God with each one of us.) Each plant in each row evenly spaced, and each row spaced parallel and equidistant. There is nothing haphazard about it. And believe it or not, it’s not just so you get those incredible ever-moving rows of vines, always geometrically marching to keep up with the viewer driving by.


The vintner plants each vine in a specific place where it can get the optimum amount of Light for ultimate photosynthesis (turning sunlight into sugar in the grapes.) 

If he plants them too closely, they don’t get enough Light. 

They also won’t get enough air circulating through to keep them from growing destructive mildew and fungus in the cluttered vines.


For the ultimate harvest, the vintner needs to concern himself with six things:

1. Water


Vineyards have their specific water requirements, and you might be surprised to hear that they don’t involve unlimited water.


2. Protection from frost in the spring.


Grapes are best grown in climates which don’t have extremes in temperatures. And if it gets too cool in the early spring, care is taken to circulate warmer air through the vineyards so cold air can’t settle in low spots using heaters and electric fans.


3. Protection from pests and disease - particularly mildew


This is where proper spacing and allowing for light and circulating air come in.


4. Some management of the canopy (pruning)


Occasional pruning keeps things growing in the right direction.


5. Some fertilizer


Surprisingly, grapes are actually grown in poor soil. When you grow vines in inhospitable soils, it forces the vines to dig deep into the Earth to find nutrients -- this stimulates growth in the vine and generates verve and sugars.


6. Keep weeds under control within at least one foot of the vine.


This is a no-brainer. Everybody knows if you allow weeds to grow close by your crops, they might strangle them and/or steal their water and nutrients.


There are so many correlations we can draw from a trip through the vineyards of Napa. But I will just draw four for you to ponder:


We are like the fragile European vines. Alone, we are susceptible to the diseases of a foreign soil and our chance of survival would be hampered. For we were not intended to be planted in a world of sin.


Like the young vine, we need to first put our focus heavenward, lest we fill our lives with too many distractions and become weak and unable to bear fruit, or bear weak or inferior fruit.


After we’ve spent significant amount of time striving toward heaven, The Vintner expects us to reach out sideways into the world in order to grow strong and be able to produce good fruit.


But maybe the most interesting to me is the idea that The Vintner intentionally does not allow the vine to have an abundant, endless supply of water. Because, although it will make us (the vines) grow fast and green and lush, he knows that it will produce fruit that is nothing but water and is useless and without nutrition. By allowing the vine to experience hardship, He allows it to grow deeper and stronger and ultimately, sweeter.


So next time life seems to “prune” you or cut you short, think of the Vintner who prunes his vines, knowing that it will strengthen them and allow them to produce better fruit.

And the next time you feel that you are having to tighten the purse strings or cut back on things, remember the Vintner who rations the water to His vines, knowing that it may cause the vines to produce smaller fruits, but they will be sweet and perfect, rather than plump and only full of water.


The Great Vintner has a very definite plan. He puts each of us in a very specific place and gives us exactly what we need to produce the best we can.


So go forth and be blessed. :)




Liz Carson Rosas
3 September 2009