“I have of late,—but wherefore I know not,—lost all my mirth“(Hamlet). I still blame COVID and its insidious roll into every aspect of life, but lately I’m not sure if that’s the root cause for my lack of mirth. There are days when I see one headline and I’m flattened by only six words. Those 50 Senators, that Russian despot, guns powered by young men, poverty and hunger and oppression mixed with ignorance and hopelessness while most of just want to escape to Margaritaville. This level of desperation is hard to hold on to and yet, it permeates many avenues running in and out of my view.
For this fleeting moment, I am reminded that there is another route. It is not too difficult to find, if you put down the newspaper and shut off the pundits. If you look up to the blue overheard and take that wide and wondrous expanse in. I invite you to stroll through my yard, to leave behind the world’s obscene pile of troubles for just a few minutes, and take a long look at perfection. Perhaps take this as an invitation to breath too.
Eli Wiesel wrote, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” It took a while for that to seep when I first heard it. I was young, and passionate, and not in the least bit resigned, or living in fear, or surrounded by ignorance. I hadn’t even learned to keep my mouth shut very well. But, over the years, I slipped into that gray area, where I argued less about issues, about rights, about ideals. Perhaps I didn’t have the energy. Or got too busy. Somehow I became indifferent to suffering and hatred and bad stuff that always seemed to be happening far, far away. Like famine in Africa. Or civil wars in eastern European countries with names I couldn’t pronounce. Even Columbine seemed distant and isolated. But then, on a crystal clear December morning, 20 young students and several teachers were massacred in Sandy Hook Elementary School and I woke up crying. I consoled myself with the thought that the whole world would change. It didn’t. Continue reading
Right out my front door the brilliance of the azalea causes me to pause, take a deep breath, observe their magnificence, and then, slowly, move into the day’s demands. For Spring is fleeting bursts of brilliant blooms that blossom for oh such a short time and then blow about in the blustery breeze vanishing before your eyes.
No matter your geography, I hope you can smell the sweet sweetness in your backyard, park, or neighborhood…From the low lying tiny blooms to the grandiose flowering trees, Spring delight is everywhere you find yourself.
I encourage you to take in the delicacy of the bloom, the aroma of the spray, and the blush of the plants photographed from my backyard and revel in this ephemeral season for a brisk moment.