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| Lilac buds…swollen with spring's promise! |
A promise made is a promise kept…that's what I was always taught and what I still believe. If I say I'll do something, I do it, or at least do my best at trying. My word is my bond, a promise is my word…and a man is only as good as the words he keeps.
And yes, alas, sometimes I do forget. Not often and not on purpose. I don't know whether it's creeping geezerhood, irresponsible tracking, or some goofy form of selective memory—perhaps a subconscious process attempting an form of warranted self-preservation. I do know whatever the cause, when I promise to do something and fail to fulfill that promise, I feel awful, a terrible disappointment in myself for having violated my own honor and principals.
To err may be human, but I'm really not much good at adopting the devine relief os self-forgiveness.
Yesterday I made a slow circuit around the yard, checking on winter's aftermath and the state of the new season. Spring is here, or at least coming. How do I know? Promises! Buds and shoots, and rising sap–and an unmistakable electric green blush to a variety of growing things which they didn't show a week ago. Promises, promises, promises! Everywhere!
Which I believe. Spring keeps her promises!
8 comments:
Beautiful photo, Grizz. For all of our searching, all of our penetrating questions, I wonder if we can ever learn anymore than we can learn from a lilac bud in spring, it's beautiful symmetry magically unfolding as if the world is being created for the first time.
George…
One of those "less is more" images which reveals the truly magical beauty in a budding lilac. I agree there's so much yet to learn from such things…though I fear we many have long ago passed the point of seeing and listening and learning. I've come to believe it's often not so much answers to our questions we need, but realizing neither the questions nor their answers truly matter. We make life so unnecessarily complicated, forever "searching for happiness," looking beyond, accumulating, yet all the while, happiness is ours to simply grasp. So easy, so difficult. And I think, in some real, way, a lilac bud contains that truth.
Isn't it true????
I love the photos of buds, and try to capture ours before the deer nip them off!
Cheers from Cottage Country!
Jennifer…
I take a lot of "bud" photos every year…buds which will open as leaves or shoots, as well as those which will become blooms. In their way—at least to me—they're as pretty as flowers. Exquisitely formed, subtly colorful, endlessly interesting.
HI GRIZZ - Buds give me hope because in them I know there is a new delight promised and on the rise - readying itself for bloom.Glorious picture of natural rising - a promise captured mid stream .
And may I add, I honor your self-held promise to keep your word -
also, I posted about my Aunt passing away.I think you might find what I shared about her life fascinating.
Happy Easter Jim
Love Gail
peace.....
Gail…
Yup, within those buds resides the hope of spring…a promise being visibly fulfilled.
Actually, I did read about your Aunt's passing and liked what you said—and should have commented. Not as an excuse, but just so you know…I often read blogs when I get up in the middle of the night and relocated to my recliner because of various aches and pains, or simple insomnia, and try to settle down and get back to sleep.
When there, I read stuff on my little iPod, which is not the easiest device for me to use to text on. (FYI, a 5-word message on a cell phone still takes me 5 minutes to create and send–providing none of those words are more than 5 letters long. I'm just sayin'…you're not dealing with a techno-savvy teenager, but a fairly antediluvian Fred Flintstone type.)
On top of which, in this stone cottage—17-inch thick walls, outside and in—my Apple AirPort Extreme, good as it is, is seriously challenged getting its WiFi signal from one end of the house—where my writing room and base station is located—to the other, where I've plopped my fanny gingerly into the recliner. Sometimes the signal drops and I occasionally lose a message about halfway through texting.
Which is still no reason why I can't—and shouldn't—comment once I declare myself up for the day, imbibe a sufficient life-giving boost of caffeine, and successfully lurch down the hall to my desk.
Scribe--Happy Easter to you--that's the promise I see in the bud.
KGMom…
It is, indeed, the perfect Easter promise—of bud and season and life everlasting.
Happy Easter to you!
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