Maundy Thursday, sitting in the glorious sun after a long, dark, wet winter. Signs of new life are everywhere. I walk around the garden's perimeter, trying to identify the various perennials that begin to poke through the dirt - the ones I moved, whose changed locations I failed to record. Oh look - here come the tips of what I think is a peony. Is it one I've set aside for someone? Last fall, I obviously thought I'd remember why it's here and who it's for. Tomorrow is Good Friday. Good, we call it. Commemorating death. The goodness can only be a reference to the resulting treasure that unfolded. Dying becomes a precursor to life. It happens in gardens everywhere, year after year.
I've cut back and cleaned up dead grasses, leaves, clipping back branches on shrubs. Everything looked pretty dismal a month or two ago. But now! Now I can watch for changes every day. The Star Magnolia was timidly showing the tips of its blossoms this morning. This afternoon, it's fairly bursting with pride! And in a few days, it will be out in full regalia.
Tomorrow, all is dismal. We look at the ugliness of death. Ah, but in a few days, the glorious resurrection blinds us with hope and joy!
The peony is for me??? :) :) :)
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