Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I am so blessed to live in a climate where new life is allowed to grow in the dead of winter when other parts of the country, the ground is covered either with ice and snow or a slippery slushy layer of mud sucks you into it’s gooey depths each step taken off of the cement sidewalk.
Seattle may be a grey and rain soaked place. But this last week has been a bit of peace and wonder. I paused for a bit after packing off some supplies to pass on and wandered into the garden.
The deep freeze in December had left a slimy trail of destruction in the veggie garden with parsley and sweet pea vines nearly unrecognizable. The raspberry vines were radiating life hidden and the promise of succulent ruby fruit in the heat of July.
Then I wandered to the front garden and spotted the emerging hellebore blossoms. Dainty pale pink edges poked out from tiny green caps and bits of creamy white merged with the pink. A few feet away the deep chocolate color of another hellebore was making its way to greet the watery sunlight.
Out came my clippers and I removed the old growth leaves, my hardy soldiers’ of last summer. I left the fallen leaves and other bits beginning the dance of return to the soil, just removing the leaves and tall sticks of the other plants that share this garden space.
The plants responded by popping up seeming to shake off the deep sleep of creation. Refreshing me with delight at witnessing this small moment of the turning of the seasons.
Filling up my soul with nature's small moments causes it to blossom into creative designs, I must remember to wait for the right moment for things to emerge. And I must remember this process can not be rushed, pushed or pulled for to do so distorts and ruins the simple beauty of my idea.