Spring

Fragrant Memories

 

Red Lilac, howfinds.co.cc



     Each spring when the air is rich with fragrance I am taken back to days of wonder when I ambled alone through my childhood neighborhood in Detroit. It seemed every street had a lilac bush in lavender, white or dark reddish-purple. I remember one yard had a lovely and strongly perfumed white flowering shrub, which as an adult I learned was a Viburnum  ‘burkwoodii’. There are other scents that evoke childhood moments of delight. There was the heady odor from wasteland ponds coming back to life, the tickling smell of grass being mowed, and the rich musty scent of blackcurrant bushes.



Blackcurrant, sagebud.com



     With my head tipped back I would often follow my nose, deeply drawing in a scent as I tried to find its source.

     There are other smells that stir my heart. The smell of fresh dill still carries me back to my grandmother’s kitchen and when we would pickle hot green tomatoes. She and I would also make hundreds of jars of jellies and jams for Christmas giving. The aroma from black raspberries reducing for jelly would cling to my clothes for hours after we had finished waxing the jars.

     Scent is a wondrous thing, a curious gift from God. It cannot be dreamed or imagined. Yet it can carry us adrift into the past and at the same moment startle us into the present.

Spring

Details

The big Eastern White Pine tree that grew at the south-west corner of the house was recently removed by the local power company. When it was planted several decades ago little thought was given to its potential size, and its expansive limbs grew gracefully between the electrical wires. During storms, and there are many of them here, the branches would hit the wires as well as the sides of the house. During one particularly nasty winter, three massive limbs broke off due to the snow loads. The blessing was that they brushed against and then fell free of the power lines, and completely missed the house and wooden stockade fence.

I had prayed many times about that tree. It needed to be removed and I could not pay to have that done. It was ruining the siding of the house. It was a threat to my neighbors during the winter because of its potential of creating a power outage. It grew only feet from my bedroom wall and I feared a wind shear or tornado would drive it through the roof. I loved that tree. I was also frightened by it.

A reminder of attentiveness.

My prayers were answered this spring when a representative from a tree trimming service hired by the power company came to my door. The young man who stood there very respectfully explained about the pruning that would take place in a few weeks. As I walked outside with him, he carefully tried to describe to me what this stately pine would look like if they trimmed it back the required distance to free the power lines. While he spoke I was secretly hoping that the Holy Spirit had moved someone somewhere to answer my earlier prayers. When he asked permission to completely remove the tree I nearly squealed. He looked at me startled and a little relieved as I exuberantly answered “Oh yes, please”!

Having an overgrown tree removed may not seem like suitable stuff for prayers, especially when I think about a friend dying of cancer or the violence in the world. Yet, there it is once again, God’s attentiveness to the smallest details in my life. I sometimes think God just wants to see me wriggling with delight.



Weeds

A Range of Diversity

     I’ve been pulling weeds and took note of their diversity, growth pattern and required habitat to flourish. Some were shallow rooted, prolific and easily removed. Others like the dandelion and common mallow, though fewer, had deep tap roots requiring I take more time to extricate. 
     Then there were the pretty little weeds with little blue flowers that crept along the ground almost like a lace doily. I noticed the Purple Deadnettle overtakes areas that are rich and fertile. For some species it didn’t seem to matter where they grew, being nonselective of light or shade.

     I pulled out the weed identification book and found over 400 listed for my region and never realized how many of them are familiar. 
     I started to think about all the parables that told of how we need to weed out sins in our lives, to uproot what was opposed to beauty. None of those parables seemed to fit the spirituality of my gardening this day. It was more about the diversity.
     I thought about the pretty little sins that creep into our lives and seem so innocuous, about how some of our poorer choices run deep and take a great deal of effort to overcome. There are those mistakes that we make over and over and over again that are like Quack grass with its creeping rhizomatous root system nearly impossible to eradicate, popping up everywhere, laying hidden just underneath the surface. If pulled at as if a young seedling, its root will snap off and to grow again. If it remains unattended to, it spreads exponentially, becoming imbedded throughout the garden.

     No matter how careful I am at weeding my garden, it is an ongoing challenge to keep things in check. Being attentive does not mean weeds will not come, it only means we can dispatch them more quickly.

Seeds

Germination

Three weeks have passed since I last posted. Three weeks of cold rains preventing my working outdoors. Three weeks of darkness as I wait for the reawakening of not only my garden but my optimism as well. Three weeks of an unusually challenging Lent as I anticipated the Resurrection of Easter.

I am surprised at how, in my region, the lateness of my gardens paralleled the lateness of this Easter. It is the end of April when a riot of spring color should be apparent, but not much else is showing but daffodils and Forsythia. Mother’s Day, which is in less than two weeks, has always been heralded by Lilacs in full bloom. If it warms up in the next ten days the Lilacs may leaf out, and if lucky a couple of flowering buds may open.

I too feel a lateness or maybe a lowness in my heart. I know deep inside me there is a season of spring waiting to arise.  It is growing yet hidden in darkness like the seeds in my garden. Those seeds need darkness to germinate, they also need rain. This year there seems to be an abundance of both.

Alexander Calder 'Germination'

I am challenged to keep the faith. We all face times of aridity (well, maybe this year it’s the Flood!). I am called to patience, to wait and see what will grow from the new seeds planted inside me. I am called to trust in the hidden process of germination.

Book Signing

The Catholic Shoppe

Click here to go the their web page

     I was delighted by the owner of the Catholic Shoppe and her customers who came to my book signing. This wonderful little shop, situated in a basement storefront (note blue awnings in picture), has been in the same location for over 60 years. The third generation owner, Stacey Breijak, was charming and fussed over every anticipated need I might have. I was her first author for a book signing event and she did everything right!
     She had a lovely display of my book in the window next to the steps leading down to her shop. My posters were taped to her doors, and she had contacted the local news station. Behind the table where I was to set up, she had cleared the shelf so I could display the books and other marketing materials. The woman working for her even arranged the display for me when I stepped out for a moment. It was lovely!
     I was not optimistic about people braving a cold drizzly day just to buy a book, but they did. Her customers were engaging and chatty, wanting to know about St. Francis Retreat Center and my work there. I sold several books, even one at full retail to Stacey, though she could have bought it wholesale.
     An enjoyable day, she even brought in lunch for us. The link to her store is included above...she really does carry a lot of all thinks Catholic.
     Thank you Stacey and all of your customers for making the book signing a fun and successful experience.

Spring

Debris

     My plan, instead of taking a nap, is to start cleaning up yard waste left by the winter winds and snow.The nip in the air catches in my chest as I walk across the yard.  Its the end of March for goodness sakes, and temperatures by mid-day should at least be above freezing!

   Carefully I pick up debris from the flower beds so as not to damage determined hyacinths pushing through frozen soil.

     I snap off old stems of mums and cut to the ground the ornamental grasses. I rake up the circle of straw that afforded my little dog a place of relief when the snow piled higher than she was tall.

   In the middle of the drive is a fire pit where I deposit my gatherings to burn. Before I ignite it I pull to the side last fall's trimmings that are on the bottom, wanting to free any birds or critters that might be nesting within. Two fat black field mice groggily jump free and hop-skip to the tarp covered lawn furniture to hide.

    The fire grows rapidly as scent and smoke rise. I add more fodder for the flames and become aware that under my hoodie goose bumps are forming as the sudden change in temperature warms me. I am reminded of the flames at the Easter Vigil and the spiritual goose bumps I get when the church becomes dark.

     I toss onto the fire a fairly large branch from an arborvitae and am amazed by the sound from the burning scale like leaves...a sharp tinkling sound like splashing water.
     Fire and water...
     A baptism of sorts on this cold spring day.

Spring

Directional Pruning 

     I headed out this morning, scraping frost off the windshield in a mere 22 degree dawn, to work on the grounds of St. Francis Retreat Center. With coffee at hand and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy CD playing, the 50 minute drive went by quickly.

     Even though the morning was cold, the sun was bright and thwarted my S.A.D. An hour later two more well bundled volunteers joined me to help clean up the gardens. They headed off to cut back the ornamental grasses, and I stayed near the front to prune and rake.

     For over three hours I contemplated being pruned as I pruned or, of late while unemployed, of being cut to the ground and starting anew.

     I love to prune. It's like art to me, a hope filled art.

     Sometimes with small trees a whole section that rubs against what is good needs to be removed. At other times the interior has become cluttered with unnecessary branches that block the light from reaching deep inside. More often, it is a simple nip here or there to keep things growing as they should.

     When I do this light pruning I look for a buds direction, its future. Will it grow backwards and into itself? Does it face out and up toward the sun? I imagine the plant's growth and calculate development before I dare to cut. 

     On more than one occasion the Groundskeeper has lovingly chided me as I repeatedly circled my object of renovation. Maybe I do take too seriously the ramifications of my pruning efforts. But like other things in my life, I do not want to throw others off balance.

     And this is how I drew closer to God on this bright and chilly day. He too wants balanced growth, purposefully directional.