My "Christmas" catcus is blooming...in the middle of February, just when I need a flowering the most.
'Tis the season of irritation. Too much snow, not enough light, icy sidewalks, grey skies, inadequate exercise, the upheaval of unpredictable weather, the claustrophobia of winter, etc. etc., etc. People are growing grumpy, feeling frumpy, easily irritated, and, especially in Pennsylvania, pretty sick of winter. At school, I hear, "I am so stressed," or "there is just too much to do," or "how long exactly is it until I retire?" My students are tired, a bit whinny, inured to the notion that there is still much to learn and difficult to convince that we really are on the downhill slide of the school year. I have even noticed that lately, I linger longer in the morning looking deep into my closet or sorting through scarves in my drawers to search out color, pattern, or texture to add additional flavor to these seemingly tasteless days.
Today as we begin the journey of Lent, a time of reflection and meditation, these pink, delicate flowers, dripping simple splendor into the dullness of this season remind me of the necessity of hope in what I can't always know and faith in what I can't always see.
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