Cedar Lee February 5th, 2009
We had an ice storm last week and all the little twigs on the trees were coated in ice–it was so beautiful! When I was 12, my little sister was born in the middle of the night during an ice storm, so whenever I see trees perfectly encased in ice, I think of that day.
Here’s a poem I wrote in college:
Growing Things
The night Shirah was born,
a cracked leafy web of ice crystals
crept up the window. In the yard,
each branch of each bare tree
was coated all around
by a slick glassy tube of ice.
The morning brought a pink sunrise
over fragrant roses on the windowsill.
The day Jordan was born,
making me big sister once more,
I danced,
his small soft perfection
clasped to my chest,
and sang to him
“Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”
for hours while Mama slept.
Mama’s wedding ring was a turquoise opal
flanked by tiny diamonds.
She dug her happy brisk hands
into earth’s black richness,
squatting in her garden
every day for years.
One by one the diamonds
were lost in the dirt
but the garden became a fruit-bearing jungle
full of mangos and blue jays.
The poem is about my mom, or really all mothers, and how they give so much of themselves to help their children grow. And in a more general sense, it’s about how life can be hard, cold, and filled with loss, but those joyful moments when you celebrate the fruit of your labor make everything okay.
So, I’ve been thinking about how I really should get started planting some seeds indoors for this year’s garden–I’ve been dreaming of “growing things.” The deadest part of winter is the time to prepare for the new life of spring.
These irises come up in my garden every spring, and are very similar to the wild irises I’ve come across when hiking in the mountains.
This flower is so gorgeous and regal–it looks like it’s celebrating! In reading about the iris flower, I discovered that it can symbolize many things, including faith, hope, wisdom, royalty, passion, courage and admiration.
I found this blurb on the history of irises at proflowers.com:
The iris’s history is rich, dating back to Ancient Greek times when the Greek Goddess Iris, the messenger of the gods and the personification of the rainbow, acted as the link between heaven and earth. Purple irises were planted over the graves of women to summon the Goddess to guide the dead in their journey. Ancient Egyptian kings marveled in the iris’s exotic nature, and drawings have been found of the flower in a number of Egyptian palaces. During the Middle Ages, the meaning of irises became linked to the French monarchy, and the Fleur-de-lis eventually became the recognized national symbol of France. From their earliest years, irises were used to make perfume and as a medicinal remedy. Today, they are primarily seen in gardens, in bouquets, and in the wild all over the world.
I was inspired to paint irises. Here’s what I’ve got so far. Right now just the very first layer is done–the base color. The end result will include a lot more color and detail. I’d say at this point it is about 1/4 of the way done.
I’ve been having a recurring dream of sitting in my garden on a blanket in the grass. The sun is shining, birds are making a racket, and the temperature is about 90 degrees Fahrenheit. I’m wearing shorts, have a good novel in my hand, and I’m munching on a fresh batch of guacamole and chips, with a tall glass of iced tea at my side. The suntan lotion is lying next to my sandals, which were carelessly kicked off. Every muscle in my body relaxes under the heavy heat of the sun. Bees are buzzing and I can smell the sharp scent of basil and mint, and tomatoes ripening on the vines in my garden.
Somehow I’ll have to stick it out until the weather warms up–experimenting with recipes for delicious soups and wearing big fluffy socks should help.
