Spring Reflections

Sometimes I wonder how much Mother Earth can take--with missiles exploding in Libya and radioactive iodine leaching into the water of Tokyo. Yet here in North Carolina spring has arrived with its usual beauty.


Named for the 18th-century Scottish botanist William Forsyth, forsythia is native to China. Oddly enough, its flowers can produce lactose. For me, forsythia is forever linked to tennis, for as a child I practiced hitting tennis balls against the side of our garage next to these brilliant yellow flowers.


The eastern redbud, or Judas tree, comes from the Greek word for weaver's shuttle. Supposedly the tree upon which Judas Iscariot hung himself, the original white flowers turned red with blood and shame--though the flowers as we know them are pink. Perhaps, then, the suicide is meant to be seen as a more muted and nuanced event, and not as a stark or harsh act suggested by the color of blood.


The star magnolia is native to Honshu, Japan's largest island. Off its coast is where the earthquake hit and the tsunami began.


Phlox comes from the Greek word for flame, closely related to the word phlegein, which means "to burn"--kind of like Libya and Japan.


The helleborus, or Lenten rose, is not a rose. Many of its species are poisonous, and it was used in witchcraft to summon demons. In Greek mythology, though, Melampus of Pylos used hellebore to save the daughters of the king of Argos from madness.

Maybe nothing is as it seems. Maybe, in the end, all we see is "through a glass, darkly," as the Apostle Paul tells us.

It's just that in the spring the colors are so beautiful. So heartbreakingly beautiful.