[First posted in April 2013 on www.deepeningcommunity.ca]
There’s a moment in early spring on the farm in western North Carolina where I live when the redbud trees explode with bright lavender blossoms, and the dogwoods become cascades of white blooms, and the backdrop of mountains behind them glows with the lime green of new growth. It’s only a matter of days before the blossoms fall and the new leaves turn dark green, but the window of time when I glimpse that harmony of color always takes my breath away. I’m stunned every year all over again when I see nature doing what it always does.
This spring I’ve been drawn to ponder the truth that I’ve never heard a pine tree try to convince an oak to hang on to its leaves for the winter. To the best of my knowledge, no morning glory has ever engaged a moonflower in a conversation about the merits of being an early riser or the superiority of worshipping the sun god rather than the moon goddess. No head of lettuce, or vine of snow peas, or stalk of kale has chided a sprig of basil to learn to love the cold. And no Asian pear has dismissed its Bradford cousins as being “merely decorative.”
Whether they provide food, or shelter, or beauty, the plants never seem to question why they’re here. And as far as I know, they never long to be anywhere—or anything—else. They simply go about the business of being true to themselves and doing what they were created to do. Continue reading
Joyce Hollyday 