Sometimes You Just Dig

Alex and John bought us this tree, a cherry tree, for our 30th wedding anniversary last spring.

I didn't expect blossoms on it yet this year. However, the little tree had other ideas. I have no idea how many of the blossoms will set, but the bees have been busy on them.

Behind the cherry tree, there is a lovely fern pine, which should grow to shade the east side of the house in a matter of a couple years. Past that is the darker foliage of a climbing rose, of the variety "Dublin Bay," a loose-blossomed red rose.

Unfortunately, "Dublin Bay" does not only climb, it sprawls ... it looks for excuses, it scoots along fences and tries to attack other shrubs -- and people who need to trim it. One hook too many. Time to trade a rose for a cherry tree.

Goodbye, beautiful Dublin Bay.

Being outside in the sun seemed to help me get an understanding of what is important in life, though. I dug holes in the past few days, I made a place for a new plant. I looked at the light that heats the world and let it fall on my skin. The breeze whispered more wisdom to me than I've been able to find in all my indoor ponderings. Over and over again, I tell myself, "It's all done. The problems are all solved. My only task is to watch how it unfolded."

I keep waiting to feel the consolation.