When I walked to my sideyard in the middle of last week’s blizzard, a flash of purple stunned me.
How in heck can that little flower push up through all this snow?
My daughter-in-law phoned me that afternoon.
“Millie, I’m worried. The daffodils in our yard just showed their green. I don’t think they heard the weather report. We’re supposed to get a big snow this week. What’s going to happen to them? Will the blizzard kill them?”
This is Elizabeth’s first winter in Pittsburgh. She’s used to southern California winters. I’ve been in New England for many seasons, so I could reassure her.
“They’ll be okay. They’ve been around for a long time. I think they have more wisdom than we do.”
After I hung up, I wrote this poemette (is that a word?) —
baby iris know
how to grow in snow
An amazing miracle!
Well, not really a miracle. They’re just being natural, just doing what they do.
But I began to wonder: do they know that the earth seems to be getting warmer? …are they already beginning to adapt? … do they have anything they want to say to me, besides
“Notice my fragile beauty”?
The snow is melting now. More colors are popping up: a sunshiny crocus, pearl-white snowdrop, more purple iris.
I take a little more time than usual to look at them. I ask,
What will I do today to appreciate all the beauty around me?
What simple act will I do to help something – or someone – come to fuller life?
Thanks, baby iris.