I can mark my calendar by a lily’s blossom. My mother’s Black Pearl is such a faithful July bloomer that I could flip my calendar by her first magenta starburst.
This year, Pearl is particularly glorious.
Every time she flowers, I rejoice at Pearl’s faithfulness because she’s part of my history.
For years, she reigned in the flowerbed at the corner of the dining room of my childhood home, welcoming all who ventured up the sidewalk.
My parents were proud of Pearl. A gift from a friend, she even has a pedigree, recorded on onionskin paper.
After they were gone, I moved her to our yard. Now, each year, I feel that mysterious connection between
what once was,
someday will be.
I’d like to think one of my children will want Pearl when Terry and I are no longer here.
Better yet, maybe all of them will want a start of Grandma’s pride and joy.
After all, Pearl is always expanding, sending up shoots through the azalea branches. Besides, I need to do my part to instill the Latimer love for flower gardening.
Maybe I’ll give them a start of Black Pearl.
I’ll copy her papers.
And I’ll tell them about their Granddad’s love for flower gardening, a passion instilled by his mother. It’s a love I must have inherited because the older I get, the more flowering plants I want in my yard.
I think about the power of a single blossom to connect us to folks who understood the seasons, sowing and reaping–
people who came before us yet live on through us.
Once again, I remember my rich heritage.
And I am blessed in the remembering.
What about you?
Is there something that blesses and connects you to those who came before you?
I’d love to hear about it.
By the way, if you’d like a start of Pearl, drop by. I’ll even copy her pedigree for you.
So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; 29 and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.