On Thursday night, there were any number of things I should have been doing, including working in the garden, finishing a freelance project that is overdue, cleaning my apartment or, quite possibly, getting some actual sleep.
So, of course, I invited my friend Betsy over for a celebratory glass of wine on the front porch. I try to keep my job out of this blog, but suffice it to say that the business trip involved a particularly big accomplishment that deserved some toasting, and I was ready to kick back and unwind a little.
We sipped, we talked, we rocked in my big chairs, we waxed philosophical (OK, maybe that’s stretching it a little bit…), and as I was telling a long and involved story about something that seemed very important, I leaned back, looked up into the leaves of the magnolia tree, and stopped mid-sentence.
There, amidst the shiny green foliage, sat a white and purple flower.
It was kind of like seeing the rabbit crossing the highway on the way home from said business trip. I blinked. I chalked it up to a trick of the fading evening light and the fact that I was exhausted. I wondered who had thrown some trash up in my tree.
The magnolia tree is blooming.
I went out this morning to take some pictures and ponder the mystery of what happens when you just wait out the rough patches and see what happens on the other side, and as I stood under the tree and looked up, I noticed hard little green buds all over the tree, the same size and shape as the grey ones that dropped off after the freeze.
They may not all turn into blossoms, but there’s an awful lot of potential right out there in my front yard.