SPRING

I found out recently that my pal, McCurry had suffered a fall.  His steadfast and loving partner, Margie, sent out an after email.  I sent a reply to her to also share with him...yes, himself the elf...my partner in crime for so many years back when I could hop a hedge or hide behind a truck to watch the results of a practical joke.  What a time.  Since McCurry remarked (upon his release from the Hospital on Easter, about noon-time) "I rose a little later than Christ," I thought I should share with all of you my feelings about my now octogenarian friend and his always beautiful and loving partner.  So...a dissertation on friendship and spring to my beloved friends:

So you are home and so you will heal.  Healing, I might add, in the appropriate season for such things...a plant that I believe is gone and one day I sigh and walk out with a trowel only to find that it has suddenly shown green shoots. 

 

A rose that withered in the late autumn begs one tiny red sprig that says "cull me back and I'll rise agin' fer ye."  I decided to "Irish" that line especially for the two of you...you two perennials of my life. You live in me and dwell in my heart every day. 

 

My love for you is not the tiny sprig but the deep root that reaches through the dry soil to a well far beneath.  New plants can't find it.  Only we old established thorny buggers can survive rain, sleet, drought, ice and wind.  We have weathered the storms of sparse and abandonment, hunger, fear and emptiness.  We have also reveled in the warmth of sun, the healing rain, abundance and joy. 

 

We need no churches for they are the houses of the pretty annuals.  Not undeserving of our love, I give them home and house every year and they bless and adorn my life for a while.  They are flirtatious and more than pretty...they capture jealous eyes with their glorious but temporary beauty. 

 

But then we come to you.  The perennials...crocus that rise through the snow.  Daffodils that bust out when they should be shivering and Viola (Johnny Jump Ups) that just pepper the place with their tenacity and determination to bring one more bloom, one more burst of color into my life.  Not to mention big fat tulips that holler to the bees to get over here and take care of my apple trees while you're at it.  That is you.  You, you, you, my perennial forever friends. 

 

In this glorious season of life, take slow and tender breaths, let your nose lead the way so that the scent of spring will lead you into one more summer of joy.  I love you beyond any words that I could write.  You have given me more than you will ever know.  I love you.

May we all have friends to love as I love mine.  A day late but not a bit short:  Joyous and Happy Easter, Glorious spring to us all.