Last year the reward for a summer's worth of hard work in the garden was a fine specimen tree. A star magnolia. A prize in the Pacific Northwest ~ they are one of the first things to bloom. I get desperate for color by March and was looking forward to the display. Sadly, I won't be able to enjoy the blossoms this year.
Maggie had a running frenzy playing with another dog and it broke, down to the dirt.
I cried. It was expensive, yes; but more than that, it was a lovely symbol of hope for me. I knew what to look forward to. Now, there is a brown stem in the dirt which may or may not recover. If it does, it will take years to take shape again and bloom.
Broken hope, crushed dreams, battered beauty.
I picked up all the stems I could find, cut the ends, dipped them in rooting hormone and stuck them in glass jelly jar in the window.
Doing dishes this morning, I noticed flowers opening on the stems and root nubs growing on the bottom. I'm a baby gardener - it could be a flash in the pan thing before they die. Or:
They could root successfully and pot well enough to form a healthy root ball by summer. I might have several star magnolia's to plant around the yard some day. Possibly a few to give away to friends.
First, I had to pick up the pieces, prepare them, and set them in a prime place to root. I'm watching and waiting anxiously to see if I will be able to plant hope - maybe multiply and divide it.
"Perhaps Love" is stunning duet with John Denver and Placido Domingo. Country boy and opera star. The mix seems incongruent. An oxymoron. A paradox. It is, but it works magic.
Inviting wild possibilities and stretching my capacity for joy is the same.
Perhaps joy. Perhaps.