It seems each time I set out to write, a disaster has occurred which makes the writing and thoughts seem small. Today is no exception as I consider the morning walk through the wet forest led by contented dog and plenty of silence. A large part of all our minds are with those in Oklahoma, hoping for comfort where no aid can help, and aid provided where it can.
I considered. as I walked, the succession of spring we’ve seen in the places,where its arrival has been peaceful. First the bulbs power up, then the trees bloom: cherry, apple, peach, dogwood, many more. Lilacs made their fragrant entrance a week or so ago and still linger, and after the dull brown, gray and white of winter, all colors are welcome.
But today’s surprises came right in the middle of crops of ferns that in themselves bring me joy. Quite primordial, the ferns rise from the forest floor undaunted with brackets, fuzzy spore bearing fronds and tight, dark fiddleheads. As I passed through these on the narrow path, however, from inside several patches of ferns sprung up three kinds of lovely wildwood flowers: one, a white roseate crown with complicated, maroon tipped horn-like protrusions; another with dainty blue trumpets, and finally a 5 or so petal face also with complicated stamens and filaments coming forward. Without camera or phone to document the appearance, it was somewhat futile pawing through the Golden Guide to Wildflowers. Perhaps a trip to the library for a book about the locals flora will help.
Suffice for now to say: there can be profusion of joy in only a few flowers, and a succession of joy as Earth wakes. I also hope, and know you do, too, that the aftermath of her raw, destructive power will be softened somewhat by the human kindness now needed so much.