In Minnesota, spring is a struggle.
I awoke on this April morning to five inches of new snow across the garden–pretty and fluffy but wrong.
On a day like this, it takes imagination to remember what lies beneath the snow. Below the cold drifts, my grandmother’s lilies wait for their chance. Even though they are invisible, they hold their inevitable green and yellow promises close.
They are not worried. They are not frustrated. They are not desperate. They wait patiently. Theirs are resilient spirits.
I cannot face making another pot of hot soup for dinner, not in April. Instead, I’m looking ahead, trying to be like a lily nevertheless. So we’ll have poppy seed chicken and asparagus with fresh lemon juice. I’ll let a few seeds fall onto the platter. Dinner will be a reminder of what people forget when faced with April snow.
To leave a comment (I always hope you will.), the program will ask you to “Comment as” and ask you to select a profile. If you aren’t signed up with any of the first 7 account choices, select Anonymous. This will allow you to Publish. If you don’t, your valuable comment will not appear.