I have always believed the point of April showers was to bring May flowers. But the showers this April are merely making the flowers wet, since they are already here.
Last night was like that. Drippy rain followed by thundershowers… quaking in safety as the world gets wet.
I worry about global warming and the possible end of life on Earth. But flowers each spring are a hopeful sign. The world is renewing itself after the winter of our discontent. In fact, a couple of years ago, the daffodils came out in February and got frozen to death in the week following their bold attempt to bloom early. It just goes to prove that daffodils are the dumbest of all flowers. I drew a portrait of one of them. Daffy O’Dill posed for this shortly before his fateful encounter with the weed whacker.
But pictures of the flowers in our yard are like the pictures of sunrises that I collect. As I get older and enter the late winter months of my little life, they give me hope and consolation. I hate to think that when my life ends the rest of humanity will soon follow. Pessimists like me have good reason to think such things might be the case. But there is also reason for hope. Flowers are a sign of hope. Flowers are a sign that life renews itself. Flowers bloom, and the bees come, and seeds develop, and everything continues to grow. Flowers make God smile.
So, the rain came down, and in spite of possible hail and thunderstorms, wind and possible tornadoes, there are flowers. In fact, look at this humongous rose growing in our neighbor’s tree. If it actually came from outer space, it may be very well looking to eat us… eat our evil dentist at the very least. And I found a novel way to get another good post out of my flower pictures.
When bad things happen, we can usually make something good out of them. I have always believed this. It is Midwestern pragmatism in action. Hail destroyed the crops? Martial your resources for the next growing season, or change from a farmer to something else more profitable. There is always a way forward, even if you have to learn to be tougher and tighten the belt, or next year’s food supply depends on the farmer in the next county. Global warming is threatening to cook us in our own juices? Well, this year our confused roses in the yard are blooming like it was Springtime. The part of the wheel at the bottom, crushed against the pavement, rises to the top again as we move forward on the bicycle of human life.
All of these roses have bloomed during the Christmas holiday this year when temperatures sank no lower than the 50’s and got as high as 77 degrees. It recalls a recent year when dorky daffodils poked their yellow heads out of the ground in January only to be murdered by snowstorm a week later. Will these roses be subjected to the same fate? Robert Herrick says, “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may…” We will pragmatically enjoy them while they are here, no matter what happens. I have been writing a science fiction novel about environmental and political Armageddon. It is set on another planet, but that planet stands in for Earth in my book. But the point is that the universe goes on even if we are dumb enough to destroy ourselves by pillaging the natural world. Yet, I don’t believe that will happen. I see movement towards renewable energy, and political change for the better is in the wind. In the end, I think humanity will dig down deep for that magical force we all possess. We will be able to change for the better when we are forced to. I don’t expect to live to see it. I don’t figure I have another whole decade left to live, and the course we are on won’t be decided before 2050… probably. But, all speculation aside, I am here now to enjoy roses blooming at Christmastime… and to share that rare feeling with you.