[Word of the Day]
The concept of coming back to life after death.
Last spring, while in the woods at Penerene Farm, I came upon some brush and “wooded trash” which dad had carried there with the tractor. Sitting in the middle of it all, I could make out the “old wood” of a hydrangea bush. It didn’t take long for me to realize it was what was left of the one that grew outside my window growing up when I lived at home. Climbing over briar bushes and small forest overgrowth, I made my way to it. There, broken, tried, dried up and barely existing was my old friend. The friend who heard my midnight prayers, my secrets whispered in the dark, provided me beauty all summer and was just one more connection to the dirt I will always consider home. There were but a couple of green leaves struggling to reach out. I reached down and easily picked it up. What should have been too heavy for me to manage, I easily carried back to my truck. What could it possibly hurt, to at least try to bring it back?
Once home, I planted it near a hydrangea that grew outside of my own daughters bedroom window. I watered it carefully and decided what would be would be. After a while – two leaves became three and then four, and then too many to count. My little bush, once large and bold, was slowly coming back. All season, i continued to check on it, give it water and whisper gently, “grow.” Although it showed signs of life, there were no great leaps and bounds. Bare stalks remained with the undertone of new growth from the bottom. It was probably this very reason dad considered it past its peak and pulled it out to begin with. None the less, I was not in a hurry to replant the place in which it had been planted, and it was just fine where it was.
Fall turned into winter and with it, it took any lasting sign of life from my little bush. Still, I waited. As winter now turned to spring, there was still quiet in that little part of the garden. The hydrangea that has lived here for so many years began to peak out and before long became green again. Around the base of my little rescue, Lily’s of the Valley began to pop up. They too, rescues from around my grandmothers home before it was burned because of ill-repair. As it warmed, slowly, leaf-by-leaf my little buddy started to unfold with green again. Still much smaller than during it’s peak, here it was, reaching for sunlight, growing.
This morning, as I was clipping fresh hydrangeas for my table, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. Simple. Standing tall. A single stem begging for my attention. There it was! My little buddies first bloom on Hilltop! …. and it was PINK! All it’s life, it had been blue. (Hydrangeas are known for being able to change color due to environment, and here it was… Pink) A symbol, a sign or just simply “being” in it’s new space, resurrected. Being given life, after certainly left for dead.
In our own lifetime we are all given the chance to start all over. To rebuild. To re-invent. To renew. Everyday gives a fresh start to make amends, do something different. Even if it is the smallest of things. The smallest of steps, can lead to some of our greatest journeys. Like the pop star Madonna, who has regularly reinvented herself for over thirty years, we ALL are able to do this. The doing, lies within. The motivation comes from the desire to achieve.
Hydrangea: symbolic for heartfelt emotions. …can be used for expressing gratitude for being understood.
Resurrection. The concept of coming back to life, after death.
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