At a certain time of year in the Pacific Northwest, Nature gifts us with more bouquets than we could ever bring into our houses, if we felt such a need. But we don’t feel the need, because the gift is multitudinous and lush, a visual feast everywhere we look. This is the time of year when the rhododendrons bloom.
Nondescript plants that we perceive as green background the rest of the year turn into prom queens for a few weeks, wearing huge puffballs of pink, magenta, red, cream, and even orange. Some “rhodies” are short, not much bigger than their cousins the azaleas, and some are taller than two story houses. Some bloom early in spring and some wait until all the others have exhausted themselves before taking center stage, to mass applause.
Yesterday was one of the three really warm days we’ve had this year. I came home from work and opened all the blinds and windows. What a surprise! Different colored bouquets of flowers awaited me at every window. The master flower arranger set up visual treats everywhere I looked. A fat, furry bumble bee crawled in and out of the pink flowers nearest the dining room window. We had dinner together, he gathering nectar and me gathering fat and salt from my frozen enchilada dinner. I felt inexplicably cheered. There is something just so right about a bumblebee in the sun, going about his business.
Late last night, the rain returned. I couldn’t help looking at the rhodies from my second-story bedroom window and hope the rain would not pummel them so hard they would bruise and fall off the plants. My hopes were dashed, however; it rained hard for a while. The puffballs deflated. Not to worry; it is early in the season yet. There are buds on the plants, waiting to burst forth. And the late bloomers haven’t even come into the wings yet.
Two raccoons fought each other, as they do every night, for the neighbor cat’s food. The bumble bees hid wherever bumble bees go on rainy nights, to fly again tomorrow. Life is ever resilient.
Nondescript plants that we perceive as green background the rest of the year turn into prom queens for a few weeks, wearing huge puffballs of pink, magenta, red, cream, and even orange. Some “rhodies” are short, not much bigger than their cousins the azaleas, and some are taller than two story houses. Some bloom early in spring and some wait until all the others have exhausted themselves before taking center stage, to mass applause.
Yesterday was one of the three really warm days we’ve had this year. I came home from work and opened all the blinds and windows. What a surprise! Different colored bouquets of flowers awaited me at every window. The master flower arranger set up visual treats everywhere I looked. A fat, furry bumble bee crawled in and out of the pink flowers nearest the dining room window. We had dinner together, he gathering nectar and me gathering fat and salt from my frozen enchilada dinner. I felt inexplicably cheered. There is something just so right about a bumblebee in the sun, going about his business.
Late last night, the rain returned. I couldn’t help looking at the rhodies from my second-story bedroom window and hope the rain would not pummel them so hard they would bruise and fall off the plants. My hopes were dashed, however; it rained hard for a while. The puffballs deflated. Not to worry; it is early in the season yet. There are buds on the plants, waiting to burst forth. And the late bloomers haven’t even come into the wings yet.
Two raccoons fought each other, as they do every night, for the neighbor cat’s food. The bumble bees hid wherever bumble bees go on rainy nights, to fly again tomorrow. Life is ever resilient.
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