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| Iceland poppy |
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| bearded iris |
Tomorrow may be a gardening day, of the sort on which one digs and pulls and gets dirt under the fingernails, says the lazy procrastinator. But today one Iceland poppy bloom is out, and irises, and the manzanita is a wall of pink-on-green. So it was a photographic sort of gardening day…
I only took close-ups, because broader views show too dramatically what lackadaisical workers have oversight here. God is favoring us anyway! Isn’t He just like that.
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| Dutch iris |
We got rain in the night, and we’re getting a little today. A little rain, and that’s not the pouring I refer to.
It’s our Glad life that has become a little too much for us of late — or so it would seem, but we haven’t left anyone in the lurch yet. We had a blessed and happy visit from Mr. and Mrs. Bread, alongside difficult and sad situations to bear up under with other friends. That kind of thing always feels like too much.
The dirty dishes have been left to sit on the counter (in the lurch?) longer than I like, and it hasn’t done any permanent damage that I can see.
The Johnny Jump-Ups appear to have been nibbled by snails, but as I breeze by I don’t want to take time to hunt under rocks for them.
My kitchen didn’t produce any bread — the disorder was beyond the point where I could be creative that way — so thank God I was on the communion bread team at church yesterday and could happily knead and cut and stamp and let the senses of both my body and soul fill with warm and satisfying smells. Even the dough smelled good and soothing. In the photo I am the reflection in the oven door.
And even before the rain, the freesias started blooming, almost too brightly for my camera’s limited settings. We did go for a quick walk around the neighborhood, and I saw that even the most rundown ugly house with junk scattered about has been blessed with a gorgeous tree all in blossom, sitting as though dropped from heaven in the middle of the front yard.
I’ve been too busy for thoughtful writing sessions, but the pictures I snapped reassure me that the seasons are going around normally still. You know Who we have to thank for that.
The tulips are still making progress up through the now-softening soil, and Sweet Alyssum is growing the perfect blanket to spread below the blooms that are on the way.
Mr. Glad and I are going on a tiny trip this week, leaving behind the clutter of our forever unfinished business, and there will be time and mind-space enough for me to collect some more images and thoughts of Spring and Life. I think I just wanted to send this note that I am here and God is still at work.
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| Pippin with Liriodendron |
Yesterday I talked with the dental hygienist Joan about hikes and trees and flowers. She asked, “Are you a plant person? Did you see the saucer magnolia trees across the street?” Oh, yes, I had seen those lovelies, smallish ones with their flowers opening so brightly pink.
“I have my camera and want to take their picture when I leave,” I said. But later with all my strolling about and photo-shooting I never got a good one of those Chinese Magnolias that people often mistakenly call Tulip Trees.
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| Chinese Magnolia |
I told my friend when she took the pointy tools out of my mouth, “I had a real Tulip Tree in my yard once so I know that those are not really that.” She misunderstood, and said, “Oh, but tulip trees are magnolias.”
I explained that what I was talking about was nothing like what she was talking about, and promised to send her information when I got home. I also sent her this photo of Pippin as a young girl enjoying the blossoms and leaves of our tree, which we had planted a few years previous.
It was a fast grower and a joy to have around, shading the play fort and adding grace to the landscape. Here it is in the 80’s on the right behind the children.
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| Yard with Tulip Tree |
But in researching the botanical name of our Tulip Tree, I discovered that is IS a member of the magnolia family (but it is not what Joan thought). Oh, my — crazy how confusing things get when humans try to classify the world formally and informally all at the same time.
In 2011 I planted tulip bulbs in the front yard (here where we have no trees with that name), and had a glorious display last spring. It looked as though they weren’t going to come up a second time; often tulips don’t last, in our climate, because it’s too warm and wet. This winter was cold and drier, and what do you know, there are little tulip leaves bravely poking through now. Perhaps in a month or so I’ll have another kind of tulip flower to write about.
Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change. -Edwin Teale
I went out into the misty autumn morning to find fine threads laced in and out among flower petals and fence rails.
But in the midst of leaves turning brown, under skies cast over with grey, the last flowers were even more obvious in their brilliance. So I gave them the attention they wanted.
A few Cécile Brunner roses had come out, a few miniature roses….
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But the salvia blooms are in the thousands. The party they seem to be celebrating has clearly just begun.
Gladsome Lights 