Life is short, as these few days of glorious color and refreshingly cool air remind us. All around my back yard the azaleas are in bloom. These burning bushes of bright colors turn border plantings into a forest fire of color, and human eyes find it difficult to consume it all. The dogwoods' spindly limbs are suddenly alive with white blossoms tinged in red. The grass that had been bleak and dull beneath the winter rains and snow now glistens with a hue of green that had not seemed possible just weeks ago. A day of working in the yard leaves you exhausted, sore and inspired. The wild-ness of the plant kingdom has been given order by cutting, trimming and planting. Our creation stories are set in a garden, implying a place that is tended and ordered, not in a wilderness where plants are allowed to thrive and wander without discipline.
Already, however, the daffodils are gone, withered to no more than green stalks. Soon the azaleas will fade; the bright white blossoms will turn dull brown before falling to the ground. Other flowers will take their place. Hydrangeas will burst forth in complex blooms that are like giant snow crystals in their geometric symmetry. The irises and chrysanthemums will flourish and fade. Each beautiful bloom will wither. Our task is to enjoy the flower while it blooms, to breathe in the fresh, pure air before it's gone.
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