Was hoping my muse would awaken this morning with inspired and eloquent words about May Day, but transitions in Mom’s life requiring increased care have tapped my creative energies, so I share a poem written by my Dad. I shared this on my old blog, but it is worth repeating, for it is a lovely poem from a man not known for his poetry, but who had a poet in him.
Come, come High Priest of Spring,
Come to this sanctuary, following a path
Lit by pale rose and white wild bleeding hearts
Held aloft by leaves of green lace;
Come on a carpet of coiled fern fronds
Interwoven with the dark green of succulent nettle tips;
Come under the vaulting arches of red alder
Whose twining branches out waited winter to greet this time;
Fill your breast with perfume
Floating down from a million bursting leaf buds and
Rising from a million more life forms
Stirring in the rich moist earth;
Be bathed in cloud filtered sunlight tinted green by emerging leaves;
Listen to the chorus from a thousand pulsing frog throats
Providing backup for robin soloists marking territory boundaries;
Come, it is time, as you have for centuries beyond count,
To bless the life cycle renewal of yet another spring.
1993, Harry Hubbard (1919 – 1998)
My Dad, moved by the same fairyland that leaves me in speechless wonder each April & May, describes the unfolding of spring on our little patch of northwest woodland. The carpet of wild bleeding hearts, hidden Trilliums, emerging leaves of Vanilla Leaf, False-Lily-of-the-Valley, pink Salmonberry blooms, clusters of white Elderberry blossoms and yellow Oregon Grape, and lush, bright yellow-green new growth everywhere creates an environment begging for visions of sprites and faeries.
Even in my Mom’s yard in Seattle yesterday, as I picked her a big bouquet of her favorite pink lilacs and blue wood hyacinths (a favorite of mine, which she has in abundance!), I could feel the magic of new life not just unfolding, but bursting forth with color and energy! I’m quite certain, hidden in her tiny yard, dense with tall, mature, flowering bushes and beds packed with perennials and tulips, there are fairy beings reveling in a yard minimally maintained by an occasional visit from a gardener. Well into her 80s Mom tried to garden, but pain and fragility required hiring someone. At 91, her garden fairies reward her for her past care with perennial blooms brought into the house. She LOVES flowers, it is a well-earned reward!
Happy May Day to you all……..may there be a impish harbinger of spring hidden in your garden today!
(You can see photos of some of the woodland flowers I mention on my Wild flowers page.)