Yup, the trees are fluttering with color — plum, cherry, and redbuds. Outside is a riot (the good kind) of hue & smell. While inside, our DeYoung Museum sported its annual Bouquets exhibit. Horticultural artists derive inspiration from art therein. Some “arrangements” are straight-forward interpretations, others whimsical, and some conceptual and brilliant. Much succulents in evidence this year.
Here’s the irony — this yearly ekphrastic flower-art turns each gallery into a swarm of smiling and laughing people. As if the fear of not-understanding dissipates. Quite magical, indeed.
In February I prayed for white blossoms to appear on the old plum tree. It looked dead. Cracked limbs with sage-colored lichen in floral patterns stamped to a lost lover left me in tears with my prayer. Then one early morning I saw a bit of white in the distance. A scrap from last night’s storm? I searched for binoculars. Yes. The first white blossom. Hope.
Spring a time of flowering surprises- the old cherry or plum trees on Liberty are starting to bud and each day a blossom – lipstick pink — pops out. Castro crows perch on roof tops and welcome spring with raucous singing.
It’s as if the ancient festival, enacted so many times, surely all the juice must have been squeezed out, comes suddenly to life again, luscious with possibility and praise. Who could praise enough, finding the trees filled with singing heaven-birds, flowers where these mandalas never bloomed before? The shadows and sorrow do not flee; they still hold the foundations firm. But from these mythic roots, once and future green unfolds in every shade of joy.