I'm building a labyrinthto mark my 60th birthday and writing about it. Here's Part 2:
It was a very mild winter here and so, even in February, I was out in the yard digging. I saw the coming and going of the perennials in my yard as never before: the appearance of the buds, then the full flowers, starting with crocus, of course, and forsythia and a daisy like a small white flower that looks great but really is invasive. There hasn't been a time since March that I haven't had something blooming in the yard, sometimes many plants at once.
But every time I would see the new buds and recognize a new flower appearing at its unique season, I found myself immediately calculating how long its season would last . .and being sad at how little time I had to enjoy the daffodils or forsythia or the spectacular pink tulips before they were gone for another year. I could almost hear the clock ticking. Rather than considering each flower's beauty in its moment, I felt regret, almost panic, that they are so temporary.
I realized that, for awhile now, I've been doing that in the rest of my life, even indulging in a kind of morbid math: adding 10 or 15 years to my age or that of my husband (who turned 65 in February) and imagining myself pushing 70 or 75, with R hitting 75 and 80, trying to imagine how we'll feel, what our health will be like, what our kids will be doing, and so on and so on, figuratively calculating how much time I might have left to be "in season" -- even though that's nowhere near as predictable as flowers.
Even if it were, of course, what would be the point?
The next day, I made a list of all the perennial flowers that I have seen come and go this year. Here it is:
Crocus
Forsythia
The unknown invasive white flower
Daffodils
Wild Violets
Periwinkle
Iris
Azalea
Tulips
This morning I picked the flowers that are blooming right now and put them in a vase:
Three kinds of climbing roses, pink, peach and red
A kind of purple flower I can't identify
A yellow flower I also can't identify
honeysuckle
I don't know how long they'll last, but they're here now and now is all there is.