This morning I was making coffee and glanced out the window. The view that greeted me caused me to stop and look closer. My densely green trellis was adorned with a single bright blue morning glory. The first bloom of the summer had appeared.
As part of my gardening learning curve I am now in possession of this important piece of information: when I over-water my morning glories, they will not bloom. Unfortunately, the other plants resting next to them need that water or they will not live. So, being faced with the choice between morning glory blossoms and nothing else growing in the large clay pot, I opted for a green summer.
It's now officially autumn. The majority of my flowers have faded and I have ceased to tend them with any care. Even my hardy mums are about finished. But this morning I saw the first of dozens of morning glories ready to burst forth in the vibrant color I was waiting for...in June.
My thoughts went to my reflection on pruning in "Receptivity." Many friends have commented on the significance of finding ourselves "bound sticks" in the ground--just when we were expecting fruit. My lone morning glory reminds me of the opposite truth--fruit can appear when we are least expecting it. "Weeping may remain for the night, but joy comes in the morning" has just taken on visible imagery for me. Tonight I again affirm that "the Father will take all the time he requires...He is a very patient gardener." (Songs of Assent, 67) But rather than serving as an encouraging reflection on the cultivation of patience, I offer it tonight as a joyful reflection on the delightfulness of God's surprising timing.
P.S. As of Sunday morning there are now 15 blossoms on my fruitful vine.
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what helpful observations and celebrations, carla!
ReplyDeleteit is SO about his timing and not ours.
there have been so many times when i have tried to "make something happen." (isn't that what i'm supposed to do?)
"he never sleeps, he never slumbers." perhaps that's why we can "afford" to "keep sabbath" and rest in him~
his timing is always perfect!
Thank you for sharing "That Patient Gardener" on the lone morning glory. I was reminded me of a poem I wrote in November 1987 -- 22 years ago:
ReplyDelete"Late Bloomer"
Fourteen azalea shrubs
decorate my front yard.
Much to my surprise, I have one
that kept five blossoms
all the way into early November.
The only one still in bloom
bears the fewest branches.
Why it never grew like the others,
I could only guess.
Right under my bedroom window,
one little azalea shrub
with coral pink blossoms,
bruised at birth,
brushed by an angel's wing.