It was Easter 1966. I had a pink hat, a pink coat and two serious barrettes securing my wavy coif. My cousin was resplendent in a navy assemble and matching cap. Our parents took our photo at the center of my grandparents' yard: The statue of the Blessed Mother. Mary was sheltered by a grotto of ivy and surrounded by a bevy of yellow tulips and decorative stones.
My grandfather was a talented gardener. The lush green lawn was lined with beds of bicolor yellow and pink roses. There were pear trees, purple pansies and puffy blue hydrangeas. The house sat on a double lot in Yonkers, NY. The well tended yard was an urban oasis.
Though a novice gardener, I have always loved flowers and color. This year I decided to plant my own tulips; they are about to burst. In Japan buds are often included in an arrangement or present so that the recipient can have the pleasure of watching the flower bloom. I am giddy over the buds! I can't remember what colors I planted, so everything about them will be a surprise.
I enjoy the symbolism of the bud too. It represents rebirth. The potential of growth and the energy of the sun are there all along just waiting for the right conditions. Maybe our lives are like this too. God knows the plans he has for us. He knows the gifts we've been given. Maybe my part is to trust the process and bloom where I am planted? Wherever this finds you, take time to enjoy the spring and take back some childhood wonder.
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