A Verdant View
Springtime in Georgia – flowering dogwood, blossoming cherry trees, flashy azaleas, and chandelier-like wisteria blossoms...
A single flower has erupted out of my lawn, if one could use the word ‘erupt’ to describe such a teeny little happy bloom. It’s one smooth kelly-green stalk and twenty or so bright royal purple little bells all nestled together. There it is, just hanging out looking gorgeous. Don’t remember it from last year. On the Sabbath it is said that Hashem is closer to His people. This is what spring feels like to me. It reminds me that there are sad mysteries in this world, times where we ask “Why?” with eyes red from crying and a massive headache. And there are times we ask “Why?” with a giant smile on our faces, feeling like peppy little kids because a single spectacular flower decided to pop up in the yard.
Spring is springing all over the place here in the South of the USA, smoothing furrowed brows, and filling even the cynics of the world with a little bit of awe. Even the clocks are springing forward. And the wisteria’s white and purple chandelier-like blossoms are about to arrive, along with the flashy azaleas, and the queen of all beauties: the elegant dog wood- especially the pink ones. Aye carumba. The dreaminess of it all. Spring in the South is such a show. And this year we are determined to squeeze out every bit of juice, savor every moment, because in June out come the mosquitoes and in comes the heat so icky it has you sweating by 8:00 AM. Hashem throws so much greatness at us in this season, each tree, each flower blooming in succession so quickly, it’s like rushing through the Louvre. “Oh! It’s a Michelangelo. Unreal! OK, next painting.”
This year we built some raised-bed boxes so we can, God willing, grow our own vegetables and join Israelis in their custom of consuming profuse quantities of cucumbers and tomatoes. (Or to feed the army of squirrels in our yard. Either way.) Last summer I paid ten bucks for a bag of tomatoes, causing me to exclaim “What!” at the poor Kroger checkout girl who is, like fourteen, and doesn’t have time for my issues. To protect and respect the Kroger checkout staff, we are even attempting to start these plants from seeds, a project about which I have previously been cynical. It just doesn’t look like it could possibly work.
We save the little plastic yogurt cups, drill holes in the bottoms, carefully label each, and insert the seeds. The zinnias – they need to come through for me. They are the big showboat of the garden and make people walk really slowly up the front walk. They come in every color, size, and height and grow like gangbusters if you are lucky, in hues so bright they can be seen from space. I go to put the zinnia seed in the cup and notice some desiccated flecks of brown leaf matter in the bottom of the seed pack. Frown. There’s no way this is right. I push them into the moist earth feeling like I’ve wasted my time and two days later, way ahead of schedule, bingo. There are lovely little seedlings pushing towards the sky with little dried leaf hats stuck to their heads.
Am I the only person who finds this miraculous? And they’d showed up early. Love it. Where were those guys hiding? I stick something so small and fragile and unassuming – almost weightless – into the soil and it turns out the there was a little plant curled up in there waiting for the warmth and the water. That’s all it needed. (Don’t get too technical on me.) And the abundance of it all bowls me over. There are enough seeds in one tiny pack to feed half my block arugala for less than the price of a cup of coffee. So, it’s all here for us, straight from Hashem, at the cost of almost nothing.
Because we humans need to hear certain things over and over again, I’m going to take the baton, even at the risk of sounding cliché, and say it again: the world is brimming over with miracles we take for granted. Why should these seedlings have me jumping up and down and dragging visitors, some of them strangers, into our backyard so I can show them something way smaller than a bean sprout? Because it is actually astounding. It is mind blowing. I look at them and thank Hashem.
We know so little and are surrounded by such a colossal number of complex creations we should be walking around with our jaws hanging agape. When we are in the zone and tuned in to this, life feels heavenly. Hashem, thank You for spring. Thanks for hiding in such an easy place to find You. It has been a sad and frightening couple of weeks and we needed it.
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