New Life and Springs of Joy

Watching spring flowers open into bloom is always a joy but more so, I think, when the winter past has been especially brutal. Which this year's was. I've always been a fan of beautiful yards and gardens, but not so much the yard work and gardening. I'm sure there's a deep spiritual parallel in that sentence somewhere, but it escapes me at the moment.

Bonnie at Faith Barista has asked us to publish a photo journal reflecting things that speak of joy.Though I'm no better photographer than I am a gardener, here goes:

Because I'm not much of a gardener, I was happy to move into a house which had been landscaped beautifully by its previous owners. The year we moved in, everything had just begun to bloom. Watching flowers and bushes and trees follow one another into blossom was like listening to a beautiful symphony as each would rise and fall, giving way for the next to echo the theme of beauty.

Snow Fountain

One of my least favorite yard clean-up jobs is raking dead leaves and branches out from underneath this tree. Under the tree, next to the driveway is some kind of low growing pricker bush. To clean up that section, I have to get down on my knees and untangle matted down debris by hand. I always seems to feel a sense of urgency about getting this job done, however, because this tree's blossoms go by so quickly. It seems that its petals start to fall as soon as the branches have reached full bloom. Sometimes I get only a single day to enjoy this tree at its peak, and I don't want the joy of that day diminished by the knowledge that my least favorite job is still looming ahead of me.

Last night, I walked out into the yard just to take in and enjoy the sight of my tree in almost-near-full bloom and was surprised to see my first hummingbird of the season hovering within its branches. I've long considered hummingbirds as love notes sent from the hand of my Father, and I gave quiet thanks for this gift of joy. I saw the hummingbird again in the morning, hovering just outside the window to my front door. I walked out, intending to drink in more of the beauty of the snow fountain, and found this nestled in a branch near my front door:

Remind anyone else of a lovely book that has helped so many re-discover joy?

Surprise!

While doing my yard clean up, I took a pile of leaves, sticks, and debris to dump into the woods. There, I found these growing out of last year's leaf pile.I'd bought several mini-daffodils in late winter of last year just as soon as they showed up in the florist department of my grocery store. I placed them on the windowsills in my dining room, hoping to coax spring out of hiding. I must have pitched them into the woods after they'd finished blooming, and a year later they came back to surprise me.

Anyone know what this is?

This is one of the first plants that blooms in my yard each spring. Although I've lived in this house for seven years now, I still have no idea what it is. It's a low-growing ground covery kind of thing with waxy leaves. Each year I make sure to clean out this flower bed as soon as the weather starts getting nice so that I don't accidentally lop off the flowers with my rake. Any horticulturally gifted bloggers out there who care to help me solve my mystery?

Photo credit: The beloved Swede

While spring in New England is lush and green and filled with beautiful blossoming plants and trees, I find a deeper, quieter kind of joy in seeing desert plants grow and bloom. Being in dry wilderness places in my own life has helped open my eyes to find beauty in unlikelyinhospitable places. I find the promise of hope and joy in seeing plants nourished by streams in the desert.

Great Sand Dunes National Park

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus; it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with singing...For waters break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water...and the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.  Isaiah 35