I have a weeping cherry on my property, visible from all the windows that face the back yard. It is about 20 feet tall and sixteen years old. It inspires me in every season of the year but especially in spring when it becomes a cloud of pink. The tree was a gift from my mother who used to love weeping cherries. She no longer remembers that she loved these trees but I do. She is ninety-two and is losing more and more of herself each day.
forgetting her grandchildren
one by one
My six month old grandson came to live with us for about five months last winter. He and his parents were waiting for their new home to be ready. All winter and into the spring, his favorite pastime was to watch the tree branches moving with the winter wind and then the gentle breezes of early spring. When the cherry tree bloomed, he was mesmerized.
perfectly still –
a baby watching
pink blossoms sway
My daughter, who also watched the garden unfolding from winter into spring, was bitten by the gardening bug – a legacy from her grandmother – my mother. By the time she moved into her new home, she was dreaming about the garden she would plant. Although my mother will never see her granddaughter’s garden, her spirit will reside there. Perhaps her great-grandson will come to love gardening too!