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Just Strong Enough

© Thomas James Martin

March has long been one of my favorite months. I suppose it is the contrast between warmer weather and clearing skies after a cold, damp winter. However, I suspect that the real reason is the budding of the trees, greening of the grass, and the early spring flowers have the most to do with my appreciation.

The periwinkle in our backyard is more bountiful and beautiful than I have ever seen before, yielding a veritable carpet of blue around the fringes of our lawn. How does one describe this wonderful blue color to anyone who has never seen it blooming except to call it "periwinkle blue."

The yellows are perhaps the most dominant color as spring arrives on the Martin property. Daffodils, usually such a gentle flower, redolent of gardening care and civilization, are profuse, threatening to wild away. The Forsythia, always a threat to take over a yard, is trailing its small, flowers in a remote corner, its branches floating brown and gold against a dark, green river of grass.

Violets are lush this year also, striking a high, sweet note near our arbor vitae hedge. Violets always remind me of alpine meadows where one must sometimes look closely to find small, delicate flowers.

Perhaps "delicate" is the keyword here for early spring blooms. Against the backdrop of winter the flowers and trees appear so tender no matter how profuse they grow. All it takes is a sudden freeze, torrential rain and gusty winds to put an end to all this energy and beauty. The plants are hardy enough, but the flowers seem so fragile.

Yet, flowers of early spring, bright and delicate, are powerful in their own right. They suffuse our being and almost gracefully turn our attention from the minimalist, though barren, beauty of Winter to the promise of earthly as well as personal renewal and eventual fruition of self as mirrored in the fruits of the Earth.

What with the stock market down, school shootings, unrest in the Middle East and elsewhere. And always the threat of war seems to be hanging over our heads reminding us of the infinite fragility of our lives and loves. A line from Shakespeare (Sonnet 65) comes to mind. "How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, whose only strength is a flower."

To open our mind to the possibilities of healing the spirit and appreciating the creative power beyond our little lives, sometimes a few flowers are just strong enough.

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