Seed Time


A gardener’s fingers push a hard dry seed into damp earth… patting, putting it to bed.
Covered in a quilt of soil and sprinkled by Spring rain, the seed hears no lullaby.
Awakening and swelling, a wrinkled husk cracks. A living kernel curls and stretches.
Enlarging, changing, pushing aside its grounding.

Covered in a quilt of soil, sprinkled by Spring rain, the seed hears no lullaby.
Quickening to ancient rhythms, birthing stem and leaf.
Enlarging, changing, pushing aside its grounding.
Reaching for light, unfolding, greening.

Quickening to ancient rhythms, birthing stem and leaf
Awakened and swollen, a wrinkled husk cracked, a living kernel unfurled and stretched.
Reached for light, unfolded, greened.
A gardener’s fingers pushed a hard dry seed into damp earth and marveled at its waking

~Mary Ann Parker, March 29, 2011

Sundial and Delphinium

Hours and days mark Lent’s  journey.

Wilderness days, nights of shadows –

Shaping time, shaping me.

Gathering grace, forging fortitude.

Wilderness days,  nights of shadows –

Grow green, moss.  Bloom, bluest Delphinium.

Gathering grace, forging fortitude

Kaleidoscope of green and blue.

Grow green moss!  Bloom bluest, Delphinium!

Shaping time, shaping me.

Kaleidoscope of green and blue,

Hours and days mark Lent’s journey.

~Mary Ann Parker

In the form of French Pantoum, this is one of a set of Lenten poems.

Cracked Voice

I found a dry gray twig that cracked when I broke it between my fingers.
Without color, without life, only a brittle reminder of green glory past.
An unlovely stick, broken away from its family of branches, useful only in its decay.
Only one of many made by Winter
Without color, without life, only a brittle reminder of green glory past,
Reminder of growth, reminder of beauty, reminder of shade and rest.
Only one of many made by Winter
Rhythmic pointer of season to come, singing a silent song of Spring
Reminder of growth, reminder of beauty, reminder of shade and rest
An unlovely stick, broken away from its family of branches, useful only in its decay?
Rhythmic pointer of season to come, singing a silent song of Spring!
I found a dry gray twig that cracked when I broke it between my fingers.

Growth Pushes Boundaries

The tree was there first, and by my own observation, grew slowly by the man-made brick wall.  I have been walking by this corner for six years.  A year ago, when the first cracks in mortar appeared, I barely noticed.  Now, as bricks begin to crumble and fall, I know they never had a chance unless the tree died.  The lesson for me is simply put:  Growth pushes boundaries.  I would rather grow.

Share My Song

 

On this last day of February, warm days and cool nights call us out to the garden. We have been pruning the results of last month’s hard freezes, tilling soil, and clearing paths as we ready for planting. A pair of cardinals watches us as carefully as we watch them. They may have already chosen a nest and we don’t want to threaten them into moving. In the tangle of barren branches their quick flashes of color make us run for a camera. Bold and bright red with his black mask, the male is darting from porch to tree. We see his mate less often, but sometimes glimpse them together. Non-migratory birds, most cardinals live within a mile of where they were born. They are song birds and the male uses its call to attract a mate, but unlike most northern songbirds, the female also sings. She will often sing from the nest, perhaps a call to her mate. Cardinal pairs have song phrases that they share. As we listen carefully, on these first sunny days of late winter, we hear the song. It sounds like ‘cheer, cheer, cheer’.
Gray days and gray thoughts feel so different according to where I am standing. If I wrap my shawl of worry around my shoulders and stay inside I may never see my red feathered friend or hear his song. Only as I go out, look up, and open my heart am I able to find the song and share it.

“Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.” ~ Emily Dickinson

Paperwhites

I am thinking of the Paperwhite Narcissus that I set into pebbles and water every year the week after Thanksgiving which thrust thick white roots down and produce  green stalks shooting with nodding clusters of fragrant white blooms. These bulbs are forced, and most of the time will not grow and bloom again even if buried in the soil to grow naturally. I am wondering if sometimes our own efforts are forced in this way, rushing to provide results, never acquiring the patience for God’s timing.

Message in Moss

Walking in my winter garden, I see some things I might not notice when the drab palette comes back to green and growth. This mossy stone ball reminds me of an organic global map and prompts me on this Valentine’s morning to love all my neighbors, including those beyond my daily shores. I am called to widen my view, open my mind. I pray to know more, in order to better love.

“Love follows knowledge.” ~ Thomas Aquinas

Settle Down

Where do you go when you feel troubled or unsettled?  Is there a place you find healing?  I don’t have need to go further than my back yard.  I open the kitchen door and go into sanctuary, to retreat, to respite.  I  sit on the stone wall surrounding my herb garden, crush a few leaves of rosemary or mint and breathe deeply.  Breath prayers rewarded with familiar fragrance bring to my attention the joy of growing things.  I walk the flagstone path between the roses and measure countless blessings.  I sit in stillness and wonder by the little pond and watch the silver flashes and ripples, gifts from fish and sunlight.  Quiet is broken only by trickling water and birdsong.  I witness the miracle of beginnings and rhythms as my eyes wander from new buds to the pregnant green of promised daffodils.  I am settled.