hope

I’m anxious. I’m worried. I’m concerned.

How could any of us not be?

My best coping skills at the moment are to swallow hard, avoid thinking, and pray. Let’s say that again. Pray. Swallow hard. Avoid thinking.

What I do think about, though, is that it is Spring. A season of rebirth and renewal. And HOPE.

In what I see no more than 30 feet from my front door, are springthings that give me hope.

A bee foraging on a lilac bloom. Make that a ginormous bee foraging….

Hope of food shared for new birth.

A black trillium. For a number of years this trillium has been solitary in its faithfulness. This year there are two. A lovely surprise.

Hope of increase in due time.

A Buckeye sapling. This was planted as a buckeye nut, gathered on a fall walk at Vogel State Park a dozen years ago. It was at the base of the largest Buckeye tree in Georgia. There is hope it will one day bloom and produce a buckeye nut. That’s a Leland Cypress in the distance. It was a 5-gallon plant about 10 years ago.

Hope of living long enough to harvest.

A Ginko tree leafing out. It was an extra that friends offered if I wanted it. Of course I did! Though it prefers sun, I could only offer it sun abundance in Spring. It was just a foot high; now look at it.

Hope of overcoming an unfamiliar living location to flourish.

The Cherry tree. It was purchased in the early years of this place. It now stands 10-12 feet, with arms dressed in pink.

Hope of putting down roots for the future.

And fifteen herb plants which UPS delivered a day ago. They await planting as they acclimate to their new climate.

Hope of nourishment to come from a small beginning.

I didn’t make them wait very long! While planting, a line in May Sarton’s poem Gestalt at Sixty, immediately came to mind: “I worked out my anguish in a garden.”

Hope that anguish can be stilled by placing hands in a garden.

Late last night as Í was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, I heard just outside the window “hoo-h’HOO-hoo-hoo, hoo-h’HOO-hoo-hoo“. I was charmed, needless to say.

Hope to be charmed, again and again.

3 thoughts on “hope”

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