Plants wither and die
as we experience it.
Everlasting physical beauty
if not impossible
or simply a matter of perception.
Why tamper with the natural timing of life?
Shriveled leaves talk of acceptance.
They do not worry.
Crinkles speak of wisdom.
It is humans who do not understand
and self-inflict suffering,
trying to erase
a life lived
well or not.
Frozen temps and snow
do not stop
even the scrawniest of plants
for the sun.
Look at the movement of the clouds
life is change.
Don’t waste your time
things are not as they were
and will never remain so.
That is not the truth of reality.
Forever cannot be.
Look at the clouds
and feel their struggle and joy.
when things are going smoothly, no issues to deal with so to speak,
are also transitory.
“Go with the flow,” others say.
The clouds already do.
A joyous heart in newfound love…
paying no attention to shadowed pretense and allusion…
until reckless carelessness taints the heart
and withers the spirit…
leaving only an apparition, a ghostly memory
of beguiled love.
You’ve probably been in a situation where you can’t wait to get away from someone’s toxicity. Maybe it’s a stranger. Maybe it’s family. Maybe it’s your employer who you see day after day after day. You’re not alone. Nature deals with this too.
Daffodils (aka narcissus or jonquils) are often the showy greeters in springtime, yet, like the attractive stranger or successful relative, we often don’t readily see their toxicity. Daffodils contain toxic lycorine and calcium oxalate crystals and when freshly cut, they emit a virtually invisible but poisonous, gooey sap — similar to insidious commentary from passive-aggressives. No wonder they usually appear solo in a vase. But, you can help them get along with others!
To create a diverse but happy springtime bouquet, give daffodils a time out before introducing others to the vase. Cut their stems at an angle and leave them by themselves in a vase of cool water overnight.
The next morning, after most of the sap has seeped out, change the water and safely add other flowers. Then change the water every few days to maintain the harmony of this mixed bouquet.
Tree boughs lie pummeled to the ground,
shrubs remain paralyzed with ice
like lingering stinging words
from tormenting razor-sharp winds
and a staccato of angry snow piercing the air.
Apologetic vivid blue skies and dazzling sunshine
appear the next day
as the bouquet offered after an argument
yet tangled branches of bewilderment remain.
Time sometimes softens deep wounds.
Some do not.
We knew the storm was coming and wondered how their fragile bodies would survive. Were there any still alive in these frigid 3 degree temps? Topping off the bird feeders, we later fell asleep to the hush of heavy snowfall then awoke the next morning to more of the same — nearly a foot of snow and more still falling.
A flurry of birds lined up on the tarmac of tree branches, each waiting their turn for food — the mysterious cardinal whose been pecking at the windows for a year, the usual tiny chickadees, a tufted titmouse or two, and a pudgy new family thought to be dark-eyed juncos (although they may have been plump simply to stay warm).
The feeder was nearly empty by noon…
…but my heart overflowed with gratitude
for taking time to care.