Updated: 5 hours ago
"Are not flowers the stars of the earth?"—Clara Lucas Balfour
Spring is here (although we're still having snow on and off) and I will soon buy baskets filled with fragrant petunias to adorn my balcony. Here in the Rockies, flowers aren't as extroverted and only the robust survive in a garden with lots of TLC.
These are some stunning flowers I've captured in recent travels.
What if we could learn the secrets of resilience by simply observing the bark of a tree?
Trees understand the importance of aging much better than we do. While humans often view cell degeneration with fear, trees embrace it as an essential part of their existence. The contrast lies in perspective: we look at ourselves from the outside inward, scrutinising our flaws, while trees live from the inside outward, rooted in purpose and patience.
The Beauty of Bark
Unless you're a scientist or an artist with a keen eye, you likely only notice saplings in passing, marking the promise of new life. As trees grow older, their bark becomes one of their most striking features. Up close with a mature tree, you might struggle to wrap your arms around its massive trunk, yet what captivates you isn’t its scale—it’s the intricate patterns of its bark.
Each fold, groove, and scar is a map of its life, formed by years of cell renewal and degeneration.
Underneath the bark lies a story. Every year, the cambium layer produces new growth on the outer and inner sides of a tree. The outer phloem transports sugars but dies off quickly, compacting into the beautiful bark we admire. Within the tree, sapwood carries nutrients, but as it ages, it too dies, becoming the durable heartwood. Over time, these processes create the folds of bark and the core resilience of the tree.
Parallels to Human Life
In many ways, trees mirror our own aging process. We accumulate knocks, bruises, and wisdom over the years. Wrinkles on our faces, much like bark, are evidence of a life lived—each line telling its own story. Yet, unlike trees, we tend to judge these marks harshly, absorbing negative thoughts that seep into our heartwood and weaken our inner strength.
Resilience and Community
Trees show us how to endure life’s onslaughts without judgment or resistance. They never compare their bark or resent their scars. Instead, they stand together, supporting one another in a network where survival of the colony matters more than individual pride. Adult trees nurture weaker ones, creating a thriving ecosystem. This lesson in connection and mutual care reminds us of our own capacity for resilience and empathy.
Embrace Your Bark
Spending time among trees brings us closer to their soulful patience and purpose. It teaches us to embrace our flaws and appreciate the story etched onto our bark. Trees remind us that the imperfections we fear may be our greatest attributes, evidence of growth and endurance.
So next time you stand beneath the shade of an old tree, look at its bark—then look in the mirror. Can you admire your own story the way the tree does?
Leonora Ross is an artist and novelist from Western Canada. When she’s not writing novels, she enjoys writing whimsical poetry and prose and is an avid mountain hiker and amateur photographer. Her writing and photography regularly appear in literary journals. Read more about her latest novel, A Life in Frames.
Updated: 2 days ago
Authors are dreamers with their eyes wide open. We spend our time with imaginary characters, having conversations with them, thinking about them constantly. Writing can be an emotional rollercoaster—it might sound dramatic, but there's truth to the whole tortured artist thing. No wonder readers are so curious about how authors’ minds work! What sparks an author's imagination? Why this story, this way? We definitely pour pieces of ourselves into our characters, but, honestly, most of us aren’t nearly as fascinating or complicated as the characters we create.
Here’s a glimpse into what went through my mind while writing A Life in Frames:
Most of this multi-layered literary saga, spanning more than two decades and vast geography, unfolds in my protagonist Lejf Busher’s beloved Namibia. Namibia is one of those places you never forget once you’ve been. This extraordinary land of deserts and endless skies is a wandering dreamer’s paradise, and Lejf fully embodies that spirit, living with his heart and soul immersed in its vastness.
No desert captures the imagination quite like the Namib Desert, the most researched and photographed desert in the world. For this story, the haunting beauty of the ancient red dunes at Sossusvlei became the perfect backdrop for my complex protagonist to find solitude and confront his inner demons.
The story explores relationships, social and environmental issues—themes close to my heart. But to make characters feel authentic, they need to act in ways that fit the story and genre, and as writers, we take liberties. That’s where personal views and a character's actions don’t always align.
Setting also plays a critical role in storytelling. Choosing Otjiwarongo as Lejf’s hometown was a practical decision (shoutout to the wonderful people of Otji!). Its central location in Namibia made it easier to move characters around—a necessity in such a vast, sparsely populated country.
This book isn’t just about Namibia’s breathtaking landscapes. As a photojournalist, Lejf travels to many fascinating places. While you’ll find yourself dreaming beneath star-filled desert skies, you might also stumble upon surprising insights. Culture and what constitutes it fascinate me. It’s incredible how people growing up in the same place can turn out so differently. When we expand this to countries and ethnic groups, the role of cultural diversity becomes even clearer. Yet, when we take the time to learn about other cultures, we discover a universal truth: deep down, we all desire the same things—love and security.
I hope you’ll join me as I continue sharing thoughts from A Life in Frames and other projects in the works.
Stay well!
Leonora Ross is a Canadian artist and novelist. Her literary saga, A Life in Frames, explores themes of family and relationships, mental breakdown and recovery, travel, world cultures, and social and environmental justice.