Photo by Ron Hendricks
By Kathy Hendricks
Every year I step into the same trap. Thinking that spring has arrived, I buy copious amounts of flowers and place them in pots around our back deck and front porch. Then comes a freeze warning and I rush to pull them inside. This year the freeze came with a mid-May snowstorm that dumped twelve inches on our neighborhood. It was wet and heavy – a real bough-buster that required vigilance when it came to protecting trees and shrubs. My husband, Ron, planted two lilac bushes last spring and has carefully watered, fertilized, and covered them with buckets to protect them from our “granddog’s” attempts to eat them. After thinking the storm had passed, he pulled off the coverings that kept them from freezing. Then came a third night of snow that was even wetter and heavier, bending tree branches to a breaking point and pressing the lilacs to the ground. Even so, as the warmth of the Colorado sun dispatched the snow over the next few days, we were thrilled to see the lilacs come back to life, blooming with gorgeous abandon.
This brings to mind another dimension of this blog and what it means to be “still blooming.” We pay a lot of attention to flexibility as we age. This is not only about dealing with the creaks, cracks, and groans that accompany the simple act of standing up, but also the ability to bounce back after life knocks us flat. Not everyone fares as well as the lilac bushes, but resilience comes in different forms. As such, Barbara and I would like to invite you, dear readers, to post photos of flowers that are blooming in your gardens or on your back porches. In what way do those prompt reflection about the resilience you possess – physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually? We look forward to some group conversation and inspiration.
Response by Barbara Radtke
Kathy, thank you for this image of lilacs flourishing after a wet, heavy snow. It is such a rich metaphor for resilience. Resilience is not just about surviving; it is about thriving particularly in the face of adversity. It can be useful at any age. Babies seem to have it innately – just watch a little one learning to walk. They always get up after a stumble; they always try again. And look how well they learn the skill of walking. Then, they run!
As you point out, Kathy, older folks need resilience, too. Almost every day I find myself thinking about how I am “set in my ways” in a changing world. I need to change, too, especially in the face of threats to physical and emotional well-being. According to my former colleague at Boston College, Melissa Kelley, the good news is that resilience is a skill not an innate attitude. We can cultivate it with practice. And further good news: like Kathy’s husband Ron nurturing those bushes in preparation for harsh weather, we do not need to build resilience by ourselves. We can be accompanied, coached, encouraged or coaxed by friends, family or a loving community.
Summer Plans ~ We decided to follow the New Yorker model of publication and go with every other week posts during the summer. After Labor Day, we will resume once a week. Wishing each of you restful summer days! – Barbara & Kathy
This is a close up of my 2022 bucket of pansies. I have planted a bucket every spring since 1984. That was the year when my husband Andrew and I moved into our house. I had them on the doorstep each May 1 for his birthday.
Pansies are always a sign of resilience to me. They are always one of the first flowers to be placed outside in window boxes or buckets in New England. Despite their name being used to indicate weakness, they survive all kinds of harsh weather. They seem to thrive in salt air. This year an English sparrow built a nest in the middle of the bucket of pansies. She knew what s…
Dear Kathy and Barb, I am sitting here reading about resiliency and lovely blooms as I feel the joints after putting out the last of 62 (40 lb) bags of mulch, compost, and top soil.
I never thought of a parallel comparison between the lovely greenery and ourselves. But you are right -- resiliency is the essence of our existence.
I think of both of you when I think of resiliency. You've experienced life's happiest moments as well as life's saddest, and yet you are always ready to share joy and comfort to others. Like flowers that still blossom in spite of all odds, you blossom in our hearts.
Thank you.
Debbie