Early spring showers have turned the landscape green with dots of pinks, yellows, and lavenders. My corner of the world is alive with flowers, and I am immersing myself in their glory and hopefulness. This year more than any other I need flowers and the promise of spring. I need something to celebrate. I am in search for beauty.
I am ever grateful to the flowers of Moggy Bottom. It is my secret garden in close proximity to where I live. I saunter down its gravel paths and savor the colorful sights and fragrant smells. Walking there reassures me that spring is surely here, and summer is on the horizon. It will be soon time for my yearly respite from school. And though I love teaching and learning, I am in much need for a hiatus from busy.
When I was a child, I loved preparing impromptu spring bouquets for my mother. I’d gather them from the wildflowers that grew on the hill at the side of our home: black-eyed Susan, sweat pea, daisies, cornflowers, and buttercups. I’d gather them in simple arrangements in jam jars or wrapped in damp paper towels tied with string. I can still see their colors, smell their perfume, feel the calm their beauty brought to me.
Lately, I have been reading about Emily Dickinson’s life of poetry and gardening. I hadn’t realized that the Belle of Amherst was an ardent and accomplished gardener. Re-reading her poems, I recognize how integral a role flowers played in Dickinson’s experience of the world around her. The garden was a metaphor for life and its complexities. She delved in deeply as a gardener would: tending plants, encouraging growth, and intimately noticing the shift of seasons.
I wanted to delve deeply this week, focus on the flowers of Moggy Hollow, listen to what they were saying, and find a way to express what I was feeling. I created a posy of flowers to share: trillium, lily of the valley, magnolia – delicate and fleeting like this time in spring when the first flowers bloom and then give way to summer’s abundance.