Reminded of that poem today as I uncovered my hostas and several other blooming plants and ground cover in my yard.
My wonderful friend Mary planted the hostas in my front yard when she lived here...my good neighbor, Linda, helped me plant the bleeding heart, gooseneck, and assorted other greenery that my dear pal and co-worker, Angie, so generously gave me several years ago...
It is a special treat each spring, as I rake away the dead leaves and other organic remnants of winter and uncover these living, green gifts from such dear acquaintances.
A little worried that I am uncovering them too early this year. An 80-degree day this early in March in Iowa is so weird...not that I am complaining. Just wondering if we are still in for a nasty frost or one or two last snow falls.
But the budding plants need to breathe now.
Thinking how it is because of our friends that we survive the cold and the dark and the dreary...how we help each other bloom where we are planted despite the hardships and heartbreaks that befall us.
It is a sacred ritual, this clearing the yard of all that is dead, brown and decaying and bringing forth all that is alive, green and growing.
Sacred, too, my thriving bouquet of friendships that has miraculously continued to bloom through life's sunny days and turbulent storms, all these many years of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment