Notes from the Bower

October 2025 • Third Edition
The Fruitful Persimmon Tree and The Practice of Gazing

Dear Reader,

A beautiful, color-drenched October to you, friend! Even if you live somewhere outside of the autumn season, I hope your world is still filled with beautiful color.

In this Notes edition, you’ll find:

🌳 How a persimmon tree had a few things to tell me about how things aren’t always as they seem—and the joy of surprise.
👁️ The power of the gaze and how it opens the door to wonder.

Welcome to the bower!

gripened persimmons on the tree — More glimpses of my beloved persimmon tree on Instagram→

Notes from Nature: The Fruitful Persimmon Tree

There is a persimmon tree on our property that has stood strong for at least fifty years. It was already tall when my parents bought the land, so it has surely witnessed many more seasons than I know. Standing alone—holding down the hillside—it marks the boundary between our property and the neighbors. It has silently watched my days as a child exploring the backyard, my many visits home over the years, and now, as my husband and I have moved into my childhood home, it greets me again on my daily morning walks.

Persimmons are not particularly large trees, but they have dense, strong wood. Our persimmon has mightily weathered countless storms. But one day, while stopping to admire it up close, I realized there was tremendous damage from a colony of wood ants. Half of the trunk—from the ground up about ten feet—was affected. I could see woodpecker holes, bark falling away, and other signs of deterioration as well. When I rapped my knuckles on the trunk, the hollow sound confirmed the damage.

I remember sadly thinking the tree was surely witnessing its final years, and that its fruit-bearing days were over. But to my surprise, that first fall it still produced fruit. I marveled, though I thought it would surely be the last.

Fast forward to this summer. I found a large chunk of the trunk pulled away—likely the work of a raccoon seeking tasty ant snacks. Surely now its days were numbered. Yet once again, as summer rolled on, not only was the tree still standing strong, but to my delight, it was producing fruit—abundantly. As the golden-orange persimmons ripened and began to fall, I gathered some to eat. How could I not enjoy them after witnessing the work of this resilient tree? And I have to say—they were delicious.

What rich wisdom do I hear God speaking through the life of this admirable tree? As long as there is life, there is opportunity to be fruitful—even abundantly so. Things are not always as they appear. My perception isn’t always the full picture of what’s really going on. Beneath the surface, hidden life is at work—quietly creating, growing, offering beauty. There is always room in this life for surprise and wonder, and for that I am grateful.

Enjoy more time with my persimmon tree here.

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In a world myriad as ours, the gaze is a singular act: to look at something is to fill your whole life with it, if only briefly.

— Ocean Vuong

Notes from the Studio: The Practice of Gazing

There are some artists who have the amazing skill of creating an image conjured entirely from their mind. Before their hands begin working to call it into being, the image lives only in their imagination.

I am not such an artist.

As I prepare to begin my work, part of my process is to sit and gaze at my subject—to take it all in—whether it is something from life or a photograph. A quote I came across a few years ago captures perfectly what is happening in such a beautiful and truthful way:

“In a world myriad as ours, the gaze is a singular act: to look at something is to fill your whole life with it, if only briefly.”

I gaze at my chosen subject. To gaze is not to glance. To gaze is not to stare, for we can stare without intent or focus. But to gaze—to look at something intently, with full focus and attention, and a touch of admiration—is to allow it fully into our world, to let it fill our mind and gently push everything else out.

In that moment, we become fully present to it. We open ourselves to the reality of something outside of us. And during this time, I can feel myself becoming full of wonder at what I’m looking at—gazing at. To see the detail, the complexity, the shape, the colors, the textures—all of it.

The gaze opens the door to wonder, and it is a beautiful place to be.

While this is an integral part of my process as an artist, this experience is far from exclusive to artists or the creative act. We all have the capacity to gaze—to look with intention, to slow ourselves down, to be still in the presence of something or someone else.

Each one of us has access to this door of wonder—to this quiet place where peace and joy also live! When we gaze upon something beautiful, in that moment there is no space for anxiety, frustration, overwhelm, or stress—only the qualities that live in the realm of light.

Friend, find something you find beautiful. Slow down. Take time. Gaze at it.

“Fill your whole life with it, if only briefly.”

A free and beautiful gift to yourself.

Why not take a moment for that right now? I’ve shared a few simple, minute-long nature gazing videos on my YouTube channel. Just press play, take a deep breath, and let yourself enter the scene. May it bring you a little peace and joy!

Take a Peaceful Moment

jar on my desk filled with the names of my readers

Friends of the Bower

New Friends, welcome! Returning Friends, thank you!

Each month, I add the names of new readers to a jar that sits on my desk—a visual reminder of everyone everyone for whom I am creating, and praying—that your days will be filled with lasting peace, joy, and beauty.

picture of donna, creator behind the joyful bower

The next edition of Notes from the Bower is scheduled to arrive in your inbox November 12th. Until then, wishing you much peace, joy, and beauty!