The early morning air was fresh and cool and full of the fragrance of honeysuckle and privet. The day had not fully awakened, especially in shady areas under the trees.
A neighbor of my parents’ has six dogwoods that line the street on one side. Underneath the dogwoods sat a small, old, wooden plow on display. Over the years, the weather had faded and rotted the plow, and the trees above it had grown so much that it was hardly noticeable anymore.
The plow had been providing a stand for a climbing rose, my parents told me, but I’d never seen any roses when I came to visit.
But as we walked along that morning, my mom said with a smile, “When we go past the plow, turn around and look up into the dogwood tree.”
I did what she said. My eyes went from the bleached, unrecognizable plow to the top of the tree. Wow.
The white dogwood blooms had already come and gone weeks earlier, and in their place, a profusion of deep red roses crowned the green leafy branches. It was quite a sight.
Steadily over time, the rose had climbed from the plow below up into the top of the tree. And the dogwood got the honor of blooming twice.
And now it’s your turn: Has the cliché “bloom where you are planted” ever resonated with you? What was going on in your life at the time?
Have you ever had a time in your life where you “bloomed” again—where you grew in a new or unexpected way? Say, in a new job, a new career, a new role such as parenthood, or a new skill or ability?
I'm honored that you've taken time out of your day to stop by my blog, Glimsen. If you like what you see, sign up to receive my blog posts and updates by email, and you'll receive a free gift of beauty in your inbox. You can also find me on Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest. I look forward to connecting with you.
Photo courtesy of Stocksnap | Skitter Photo