I hope. I am a hoper. If you are a gardener, then you probably are too. I was thinking about this as I pulled out and cut back my front garden this past week. Once all the work was done and before spreading a blanket of mulch on it, I put in well over a hundred spring bulbs. And now, I wait for spring. It feels a little like tucking in a tired toddler, kissing them goodnight and hoping for a good night's sleep and a wonderful day tomorrow.
I think of our veterans this week, and all the ways hope played its part in their lives from enlistment, to service and back to civilian life. On land, in the air or on the sea, to hope is to believe in possibility; the possibility of success, of prevailing. To hope is to imagine an outcome so you can set a path to follow. To hope is to draw on experience, on a hunch and on pure faith all at once so you can step forward into your plan, into your life.
Hope is a human experience, thus common to us all. Know this as you encounter your friends and acquaintances this week ahead. Wonder, what are their hopes? And for you, may all your hopes be buttressed with experience, strategy and a little luck. And may you be there for the grand finale.
And for the gardeners among us, a poem I was inspired to write after my garden was put to bed for the winter:
Ladieeeeees and gentlemen
Step right up, and watch the show,
as I, the lovely assistant, hand the master magician
this ugly, humble papery lump.
Watch as she places one after another
Oh this show goes on for hours
ladieeeeees and gentlemen.
You must be patient or you'll miss it!
Step right up and watch
as the magician works her magic
With all her other lovely assistants soon to join us
here on this stage of soft brown mulch.
I'd like to introduce frost and darkness. Here's snow
and deep cold. Apogee and perigee and rotation, spin and tilt.
Ah, and now thaw, light and warmth arrive.
This act is only for the true believers, ladieeeeees and gentlemen.
It's for the faithful; the generous ones who,
for all they know, may not even be around for the grand finale.
But you are here and...Look. There! It's nearly tada time. A bright green shoot. Another.
The magician's purple and white cupped hands reach up
and open to you and gently bow.
Hocus pocus crocus.
(c) 2019 Meg Reilly