All things have a place on spring’s stage. While one takes its bow, another enters— exemplary of a layered garden.
Recently, my one-hundred-two-year-old neighbor died. My six-year-old grandson and I were remembering her and he spoke to me of the circle of life. Of how something dies and another thing takes its place. “Maybe when my baby sister is born, she will be Miss Rose.”
In nature, young and old coexist. One has the spotlight while another plays a supporting role. And, then it changes. Where I live in Delaware, the redbud and cherry blossoms have withdrawn, while primrose and iris shine. The light green leaves of spring provide a backdrop for the magnificent peony. I check daily for the short-lived season of the lilac and savor its fragrance while it remains.
Three years ago today, we said goodbye to our beloved Golden Retriever, Roger. We spread his ashes in some of his favorite places, and at the base of a rose bush we planted in his honor.
Today, one of its branches reaches to the sky, reminding me it’s possible that death mingles with life, and brokenness with beauty.
Loved reading your Symphony of Spring. Almost shed
a tear. You express in words as only as you can. THX
You are so kind, Jude! Thank you.
❤️
Hugs