The second wham of February’s double-whammy blizzards brought so much snow that several of our plantings suffered. One limb of the lilac outside the office window splintered from the weighty snow.
(With greenery from other branches around it, the broken branch doesn’t look so bad. In the winter, though, it looked very sad and lonely.)
At the time, I mentally to-do’d: cleanly cut the limb before spring to neaten things before the bush reaches blooming glory.
But Good Intentions ne’er won fair maiden (or something).
For a while, deep snow persuaded me not to leave the snug indoors and tramp outside. Then melting snow convinced me not to stand in the mud to cut the limb lest I leave irksome trails inside the house afterwards. The two monsoons that followed beswamped the side yard sufficiently to raise fears that, were I to vigorously saw the limb, I might be sucked into the earth.
And so the bush was not trimmed. The broken limb continued to dangle at an angle, a reminder of winter’s fury and my incompleatness as the Compleat Gardener.
(Dangling unhappily in the background.)
When came a charming surprise. About a week after the second monsoon, buds began to form on the forlorn limb. And I said to myself, I said, “Self. Let it be, and see what happens.”
And what happened is that now, when the bush is blooming, the resilient lilac continues to send energy, nutrients, and life to its unhappy limb, which itself offers flowers to us, gives fragrant blooms to the world.
(No, this picture is not upside down. The broken limb hangs down rather than shooting up.)
Resistance may be futile, but resilience is utile.
Don’t know about you, but that’s a reminder I can use.
Words and pictures © 2010 AtHome Pilgrim.
All Rights Reserved.
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Comments
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designanator: Yes, it certainly makes sense. Have a great gathering today!
scanner: We had spring's version of a snowfall this morning: a little rain and a little breeze sent many of the white pear blossoms to the ground.
Fay: And old Pilgrims (I hope).
patricia: Yes!
sophie: Thank you; glad if they were wroth the pause.
Donna: Stop by any time you need a whiff.
LL: Enjoy your cacti; glad the lilac brougth a smile to you.
Torman: Even when we know we are broke.
Smithery: As long as there isn't a rake in those leaves--tines up.
greenheron: You can roost in the lilac any time you wish.
Fusun: Where there's life . . . Sometimes you just need a paradigm shift, Fusun. ;)
Beautiful post, beautiful choice of words.
hells bells: But they're such lovely, fragrant weeds!
Kisses,
Marcela
Rated.
Marcela: You just need to rehab your vocab. ;)
Shiral: Let's hear it for Green Power!
PW: Thanks for liking that: must confess to have been rather taken with it myself.
Maureeenow: Thanks!
dianaani: Take a picture! And if anyone is unconvinced that nature has a sense of humor, I submit . . . the platypus.
charlie: A toast to benign neglect--and peeing on the leaves. . . .