Pondering Hope in Everyday Moments
My potted roses are almost ready to bloom. In addition to the red roses, the pink, rose, gold, and coral-colored roses (not pictured) are also ready to pop. Most of them will bloom all summer, but they will never again be as beautiful as they will be in April.
I can’t wait.
Yesterday, I worked in the garden until mid-afternoon. The heat of the sun made rivulets of salty sweat run down my face. I was too busy, too driven, too absorbed in my tasks to enjoy the day. Finally, satisfied with my labors, I retreated into the shade of the house to rest.
In the evening, I was drawn to walk in the garden. Suddenly, I was in Eden. I understood why God liked to walk in the garden in the evening. There was something about the soft evening light that made the colors of the blossoms and leaves so intensely vivid. The air was cool. Day was almost done.
There was beauty.
Just when I thought my perennials were going dormant for the winter, the warm afternoons breathed new life into them. The Scabiosa is putting out blossoms, and the Cherry Sage is covered with new color.
The Violets and Vinca are raring to go too, although they won’t bloom until spring.
A neighbor recently commented on the unusual patterns of color we are seeing this year on the autumn leaves in our neighborhood. She attributed them to our unseasonal snowstorm and freeze a few weeks ago. I hadn’t noticed the unusual patterns, but I was glad she brought them to my attention. I was reminded of the poem “Pied Beauty” by Gerard Manley Hopkins in which he gives glory to God for dappled things and…
...All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
At the same time, there is beauty in monochrome. In our backyard, the ash trees simply ignored the snowstorm. The leaves were green before the storm, and they remained so after the snow and ice melted. Now, they have turned to their reliable shade of gold.
In our courtyard, the moss roses are in bloom for reasons of their own. They have no thought of their loveliness to my gaze — how the variety of their colors delights me.
I am utterly astonished by this.
Contemplation Garden 