Wild Garlic

I am enjoying the past few cool mornings.  I lace up my boots and head down the road, relishing the cool breeze on my face as the sun rises over the hills in the east.  It gives me a chance to take an inventory of the new flowers and plants up here on the hill.   Nothing out of the ordinary.  But each year I am happy to see the progression of spring to summer.

Wild garlic is a new favorite of mine.  It is not a showy plant.  It doesn't have the pizzazz of the colorful flowers that herald the arrival of spring with vibrant yellow and blue and deep pink,  In fact, it is downright ugly if you want to be truthful about it. It is tall and gangly...kind of like a teenager's legs before their body grows to match them.  The brown nuggets that form the base are a deep purplish brown color.  The pink flowers that grow from the center are a dainty, shy kind of pink.  Not robust at all.

According to my Ozark wildflowers book the wild garlic "has strong antiseptic properties."  It goes on to say early settlers and Native Americans used the juice to treat wounds, burns, bee stings, and snakebites.  The list also includes using it for" fever, blood disorders, lung troubles, internal parasites. skin problems, hemorrhoids, earaches, rheumatism, and arthritis"  It was also a help for early explorers of the area.  When Marquette made his way from Green Bay to the present site of Chicago one of the food staples was wild garlic. 

Everyday I check to see how it is fairing.  Will it wilt in the hot, dry

 summer days to come?  Will it shrivel up and fade into the weeds sure to encroach upon it?   Or will it stand tall, there on the rocky roadside and eventually drop its brown seeds into soil.....resting until another spring brings it back to life. I like to think it will.  

Sort of a metaphor for life as we know it.  We may not be the most beautiful or showy....but even in our plainness we are strong....sure to endure no matter what. 

 

Waiting.....

The last several days have been teasers....cool for a few days, cloudy, windy....and then clear, sunny, almost too hot.  I go for my walk everyday.  I look for signs of spring.  Nothing much for a while...and then the daffodils, springing up in yards and fields.  Swaying in the breeze...lifting their heads to the blue sky.  Picking some from the hill in front of my house, I put them in my favorite vase on the windowsill.  The above picture is crocus that bloom down by the creek where Andy has planted them.  They are doing well, but only last a day.  

Spring here on the hill comes in spurts.  The sunshine in my eastern window at sunrise seems more intense.  The yellow beams move from day to day...marking the sun's movement from south to north. Hope for warmer weather and clearing skies always encourages me to look ahead....waiting, always waiting.

I hear turkey gobbling in the south field.  Birds are flitting from tree to tree....jumping down to peck for food among the greening grass.  Hope...always hope.  Hoping for warmer weather....milder winds...the smell of earth ready to be plowed and sown with this year's seed.

My heart says yes, but my mind says no.  And, yes, I know it tells the truth.  For it is too early to plant....too early to gather my thoughts and eager wishes for what is to come.  The weeks ahead will tell the story.  Snow in March?  Yes.  Buds on flowers and trees nipped by April frost...it happens too.

But these few first precious days of awakening life....I watch them hourly as if I were their mother.  Pleased with each movement...each tiny step of progress.  Feeling that all is not in vain.  

Spring will come.  Maybe not today...or tomorrow.  But it is on its way.

And this brings joy to my heart and a smile to my lips.  Even if I am still waiting....