Mother Nature's greatest gift to us are the flowers of spring. After the seemingly endless dark, gray days of winter, springs flowers burst forth in brilliant, colorful splendor. One day it is only the pointy, green tops of the leaves poking through the soil. The next, the tender cups of daffodils raise their bright, yellow heads to the sun. Along about the same time come the hyacinth in their purples and whites, and then the tulips in a variety of colors (I happen to favor the red ones myself). Finally the forsythia go from green buds to vibrant yellows. It seems as if everywhere I turn someone has a bush or a row of bushes waving their hello as I pass by.
I have always thought that the colors of spring are the most beautiful of all. Sadly, they last for such a short time before dying back until next spring to make way for Nature's summer pallet. After only two or so months they are gone. Thinking about this gave me pause to see a connection between the short lived colors of springs and our own lives.
In the context of time as we know it, our lives are but an instant. Before we know it we wake up one morning to find we are thinking about things like retirement and grandchildren when only yesterday we were playing with our own little ones in the sun. The brilliant colors of our springtime have slipped away, or so it seems. But there is so much yet before us to experience, all the wonderful colors of summer roses and ripe, red tomatoes, and the burning beauty of autumn leaves. We are only leaving one season behind us so we can move on to the next season of our lives. Each one has their own beauty, their own discoveries and their own treasures to discover.
Today I potted some beautiful dianthus that were given to me by a friend. They are sitting on my porch soaking up the sun. By summer's end I suspect they will have filled in enough that I will have to split them up into two pots. For now they are resting on a table two stories above the daffodils and hyacinths that are sitting in neat little rows like soldiers beneath my windows. When they have spent their last bit of yellows and whites, they will slip back into sleep and the deep, dark pinks of the dianthus will hold my attention over the summer, along with pots of dark green herbs and purple tipped lavender. So much to look forward to. So many wonders yet to unfold, in life as well as in the garden.
And so it is.
