This has nothing to do with me; we barely provide water. The previous owners planted these Hydrangeas, a surprise to us our first spring in the house, and I’ve been grateful ever since. One morning they appear… and in a few short days, in our heat, they’ll be curled up in a futile attempt to remain glorious. The purple blooming tree, which we planted as a small bush only two years ago, is a native Vitex which thrives in our area. I’m also very happy we’ve become acquainted.
We are in the season some call Lent, which the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines as “the 40 weekdays from Ash Wednesday to Easter observed by the Roman Catholic, Eastern, and some Protestant churches as a period of penitence and fasting”. As a child, I gave up chocolate as a way to pretend I was being pentinent (which wasn’t very difficult since chocolate wasn’t a staple around the house). I hadn’t a clue what pentinent meant, or what Lent was supposed to represent; I just knew that the weeks before Easter were dreary, and the Easter Bunny would soon bring relief.
So how and when did a rabbit become a symbol of Easter, carrying a basket of eggs, when a rabbit doesn’t even lay eggs? According to German Lutheran tradition from the 1600s, the Easter hare was a kind of Santa Claus who dispensed eggs to children who had been good. Rabbits were certainly active in the spring and their talents did not go unnoticed among signs of seasonal awakening. Wikipedia also explains that Orthodox churches had a custom of abstaining from eating eggs during Lent, boiling them to preserve for the end of the fast. Perhaps this is the source of their appearance in Easter baskets, but it still requires a lot of imagination to connect eggs to a hare. We adopted these symbols after Europeans left their homelands in the 1800s, bringing their traditions to America with them.
Enjoying the arrival of spring is a universal pleasure, and there’s nothing wrong with a good story to support festivities. My preference, however, is for the much older story that celebrates renewed life following a period of darkness and distance, after a Lent observed as a remembrance of Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness. I hope that story of rebirth and resurrection is still being shared with children, and isn’t entirely lost in commercialism and chocolate and cuteness. It has a great deal more staying power, and its source continues to send endless means through which to see the world with refreshed vision. I found renewal at the Arboretum this week, where the message was loud and clear. Hope Springs Eternal. And it is stunningly beautiful.
It hasn’t been a very pretty spring where I live, mostly overcast and dank. Flowers have tried to brighten things up, but the sun hasn’t been encouraging, and they’ve mostly given up after a half-hearted effort. I was therefore taken by surprise when a field of color caught my eye as I drove on a busy commercial street past the library one day. It was not my usual route, and I had no idea this treat was waiting for me. Sometimes you just have to stop the car, and take a walk on the wild side.
A bouquet, given to a convalescing friend, made her sneeze, so she gave it to me when I visited. We laughed about how unattractive it was. The flowers were garish (why dye flowers unless they don’t have a lot going for them in the first place?), the petals were drooping and the fragrance (I’m being generous) was less than appealing. I brought them home to toss, but wondered momentarily what the camera might see that I didn’t. I was reminded, once again, of the value of a second look before judgment.