Season Of Hope

Last summer our beloved Japanese Maple tree lost a limb. Then another limb began shedding leaves much too early in the fall. The remaining branches seemed noncommittal. As the first snow fell, we said good bye to the tree and waited for Spring, the season when life begins again, the season of hope.

By early April we knew the tree’s end was in signt. Peter oiled his chainsaw, and we went looking for hope elsewere. We glanced towards the flower garden near the front door. And there we found a lone tulip gazing back at us in its orange and yellow dress. It was all the more glorious becauuse it had outlived the other bulbs by somehow evading the deer who visit our street in the evenings. Then we found a second one, partially hidden by fallen leaves, but still standing.

Fuelled by anticipation, we rushed into the back garden to search. We discovered that our periwinkle border, which we had been coaxing along for a couple of years, was in full bloom, rising above other intruders. Garlic mustard had been the most invasive. At first Peter was on its side, intigued by the name. How could two of his favourite spices be bad? Surely we could cook them up into a nice little side dish of greens! But this year even this intruder was overtaken by the periwinkle.

Then we started looking for other things to eat. The rhubarb was doing well and our mouths began to water as we thought of rhubarb muffins, and rhubarb sauce over ice cream. The raspberry plants looked healthy too. But there was no sign of tomatoes, zucchini or cucumbers. So Peter rushed to the store for seeds, potting soil and tiny pots. He began planting.

Some of Peter’s babies

Peter has babied them for a couple of weeks, spraying them with water, moving them from place to place so they could follow the sun, and transporting them inside and out, depending on the temperature. Meanwhile I sit by myself, ignored and lonely. Oops… off topic.

Elsewhere in Toronto this week people are getting their fill of the season of hope. In High Park the forsythia and cherry blossoms are at their peak. Crowds of visitors find unique ways to travel there, by subway or on foot, or by playing hide and seek for parking spots on back streets.

However, as anyone knows, the quintessential sign of the season is right in your own back yard: the golden goddess, defying weedkillers and diggers, surviving in all conditions, resiliant to a fault. Presenting:

I wish you signs of hope in your life this spring.

Sue