This is the window view today from my little prayer corner in my writing room.
The scene of the Great Lilac Massacre.
The place of death.
This used to be my little piece of woods in the yard. Until the chain saw struck. And then my husband did some cleanup. He sometimes brings in pieces of glass, an old lock, a key–something the earth heaves up, once swallowed from the cabin that used to stand there. I wonder about the people who lived in it.
There is something I never noticed before. And so, coffee in hand, I go outside for a closer look.
Some large rocks thrust their bodies from the soil, like tombstones. Were they there before?
And then I see last year’s Christmas tree. I did not realize Dennis had tossed it there. How could I have missed it?
Dried and brown and brittle. Severed from its roots. Cut off from food and water.
And I feel a sense of sadness.
I walk gingerly to avoid some stubborn poison ivy. And note the lilac shoots, green and lush, that sprout from healed stumps still attached to their roots.
And the sun shines in a cloudless blue sky. And birds sing. And the air throbs with the sound of cicadas.
And I look up into the maple canopy and see boughs heavy laden with helicopter seeds.
And I sniff promise and hope and life.
All because of a Root.
Linking up today with Cassandra Frear’s window view over at the Moonboat Cafe.
Cassandra Frear says
Great Lilac Massacre! Love it!
Good writing, Sandra! You encourage me…
What a traumatic day that was. 😉
You encourage me, too!
Ann Kroeker says
Thank you for the tour, pointing out what I would have missed, slowing down to really *see*. Reminds me a little of Laura Boggess’s “Slow” post:
Thank heavens the lilacs are returning–their resilience inspires. Reminds me, too, of the redbud my dog chewed down to nothing. It, too, came back and is a small but thriving tree two years later.
Thanks for sharing Laura’s link, Ann. I yearn to slow down, and am running into so many obstacles. (That seems backwards–obstacles should show one down!)
We can take a lesson in resilience from the redbuds and the lilacs. Hmmm. I just noticed if I take the second “I” out of resilience, I have “re-silence.”
There is so much truth in this.
All because of a root.
Sheila Hollinghead says
Love reading your blog.
Awww, thanks! You made me smile.
Susan J. Reinhardt says
This reminds me of how we’re often cut down by life, but the root is still there. We spring back and live to bloom another day.
Good one, Susan!