Of White Sky, Blue Windows, Warm Stone, and Red Berries

In Look Homeward, Angel (a book I loved as a teenager and struggled to like as an adult), Thomas Wolfe wrote, " . . . a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the unfound faces."

Today, I might write, " . . . white sky, blue windows, warm stone. And of red berries."

This is how obsession begins, and ends when leaves return to the Possumhaw Hollies (Ilex decidua) in spring.  

May it be long till then, as long as the overwrought novel. (Please forgive me, Wolfe fans.)

Possumhaw Holly.

Say it.

See the red berries.

Hear the poetry.

Possumhaw Holly.