It’s spring in the Sonoran Desert when new life returns again to mother earth.
For humans living through a long and isolating pandemic, the hope of
spring is sorely needed today. Just as the crocus flower can break through the
snow, the cactus flower reminds us of how little is needed for flowers to
blossom. Each calls out for us to wait. For even in the darkest, most barren,
and coldest (or driest) of times, new life will appear. We only must wait to
observe the miracle unfolding before us.
The spring flowers we love the most
are those that sneak up upon us. They are with us for just an instant. If we are too busy, if we blink, the flowers
are gone. The fields of wild, California
poppies, and the flowering, desert cactus are here for only a moment in
time. Just like the blossoming cherry
blossom trees, we must be on the alert to catch their splendor. The Japanese,
who are great nature lovers, track the blossoming trees on their nightly news.
They call this moment “muju” which means impermanence. There is a bittersweet quality to a beauty
that is so fleeting, so transient and so ephemeral. The beauty of the flowering cherry trees soon
becomes the beauty of the falling leaves in autumn. The Japanese celebrate the
blossoming cherry trees, for they understand that this moment won’t last.
Change is inevitable. If we are lucky and have been paying close
attention, we too can awaken from a long sleep. We hold the memories of spring
within us and keep the metaphor close to our hearts. For no matter how dark the time, nature cries
out that new life will appear. Maybe
only for a moment, maybe only for that single blink of an eye, but it’s here
and it will return again. So, may it be for each of us.
In the story of “Goldenrod and Aster,” we see
that the wise old woman understands the singular importance of this beauty. The
children in the story say, “We would like to become a pleasure and a joy to everyone who meets
us." The wise crone’s response is a powerful reminder of what is truly
important.
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Two little girls once lived at the foot of the highest hill in the
world. One little girl had hair as yellow as the golden sunshine. The other
little girl had eyes as purple as the violets of springtime.
"Do you know who lives at the top of this hill?" asked
Golden Hair one day.
"No. Who?" said Blue Eyes.
"Don't you really know?" asked Golden Hair.
"No, I really do not know!" answered Blue Eyes.
"Well, then, I will tell you," said the little girl,
shaking out her golden curls. "Up at the top of this highest hill in the
world lives an old woman. In her orchard are beautiful ripe apples, which anyone may have for the picking. In her garden are fluffy-tailed, tame squirrels,
which one may play with all day long. In her cupboard are jars and jars of
sweet cakes, of which one may eat as many as she chooses."
"Oh, let us visit the old woman," said Blue Eyes,
springing up.
"But listen," said Golden Hair. "There is something
very strange about the old woman. They say she can change rabbits into frogs
and birds into fish and little boys and girls into whatsoever she
chooses."
"Oh, let us go and see her!" again cried sturdy little
Blue Eyes.
"Are you not afraid?" asked Golden Hair.
"Oh, no," said Blue Eyes, "she would not do us
harm, for she is kind to the squirrels in her garden. Perhaps she will change
us into something very lovely. Let us go!"
So the two little girls set out. Hand in hand they traveled up
the great hill. There was a curious smoky haze in the air, and the sunshine
fell through the haze in long golden rays. The wind stirred the oak boughs, and
the acorns dropped to the ground. The golden and red leaves fell at every
breath. They rustled beneath the feet of the children as they walked.
The mellow apples hung on the boughs, yellow and russet and red,
or fell with sharp thuds to the sod below. Everywhere was the late summer
sunshine.
At length, the children passed the brook and the oak grove and the
orchard lands and came in sight of the tiny old hut where the witch lived.
In the doorway sat the old woman, and about her, the squirrels
played and the flowers bloomed.
"What do you wish?" asked she, looking up kindly at
Golden Hair and Blue Eyes.
It was brave little Blue Eyes who spoke, while Golden Hair shyly
hung her head until the curls covered her face.
"We have heard," said Blue Eyes, "that you are very
wise and very powerful, and can do wonderful things. Is it true that you can
change rabbits into frogs and birds into fishes and little boys and girls into
whatsoever you wish?"
"And if it were true," said the old woman, quite gently,
"what would you like me to do? Do you wish me to change a bird into a fish
or a rabbit into a frog?"
"Oh, no," cried Golden Hair, at last looking up.
"Indeed we did not come to see that. We came to ask you how we may do much
good."
"We would like to become a pleasure and a joy to every one
who meets us," said little Blue Eyes.
"Ah," said the old woman, "then you shall indeed
have your wish. But first, stay a while and play in my garden. When the sun sets
you may set out down the hill."
So all that long golden afternoon the children played in the old
woman's wonderful garden. When the sun set she kissed them both and herself led
them partway down the hillside.
"You shall have your wish," she said, at parting,
"you shall become a pleasure and a joy to everyone who meets you!"
The next morning on the hillside two flowers were found, growing
side by side. One was fluffy and soft and yellow as the curls which fell over
the cheeks of little Golden Hair. The other blossom was bright and purple and
looked bravely and fearlessly out on the world and the sunshine, like the blue
eyes of the other little girl.
You may still find the little girls climbing the hills side by side.
They bring pleasure and joy to all who meet them.
You may call the sisters little Golden Hair and Blue Eyes, or, if
you really wish, you may name them goldenrod and aster.
Phyllis' Field Friends: FLOWER
STORIES by Lenore
Elizabeth Mulets. (Boston, MA: L. C.
PAGE & COMPANY, 1903, 1904).
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