April 2009

Now the green blade riseth
from the buried grain,
Wheat that in dark earth
many days has lain;
love lives again,
that with the dead has been:
love is come again,
like wheat that springeth green.
--John MacLeod Campbell Crum, 1872-1958
Canon, Canterbury Cathedral

It is sunny, but still cold, as we walk around the yard looking for signs of life; there are hundreds of green, thumb-sized shoots in the daffodil and peony beds, a sure bet that we’ll find other green-and-growing things scattered about the property. There is something akin to the feeling of a treasure hunt as we walk from dormant shrub to dormant shrub, peering close to find swelling buds and sometimes even tiny leaves unfurling to meet their first rays of sunshine.

We try to walk slowly and casually, but what I really want to do is run thither and yon like an eight-year-old, seeing as much as I can see, as quickly as possible. Are there buds on the dogwoods? How about the wild tulips at the front gate, are they awake yet? Is the cherry tree by the drive loaded with blossoms just waiting for the perfect April day to dawn? Even the dog is excited to be outside after our long exile indoors. She runs her wild circles in the yard, expressions of sheer joy at being back outside and under the shining sun again. The three of us are like seafarers, back on Terra Firma for the first time in years.

By the time you read this, I imagine we’ll have sprays of forsythia decorating Rosslyn Farms, along with bright yellow daffodils, crocuses, and all those other harbingers of early spring. What would we do without them, these green blades that riseth from the dark earth? They are a promise that warmth and sunshine are just around the corner, after months of cold and dark. How fitting that springtime and Easter have become so intertwined, as Crum attests to in his hymn lyrics, above. Both speak to us of rebirth, of hope, of miracles.

This year, Easter and Passover coincide, although that isn’t always the case, for some reason. Like Christmas and Hanukkah, these holidays dance around one another, sometimes together, other times apart. At least Christmas is a fixed holiday--anyone who has ever tried to use the Golden Number to determine when Easter will fall in any given year can attest to the mind-boggling nature of the formula: first full moon after the vernal equinox, Metonic cycle, Dominical Letter… Huh?

Much easier to take the days as they come, and let others plot our holidays for us. And that is the rule in the garden, as well: the green blades rise when they are ready, regardless of what the calendar, garden books, or old wives’ tales tell us. So, what better way to spend a sunny Sunday afternoon than wandering, from plant to plant, around the yard in hopes of catching a glimpse of spring.



Note: Anyone brave enough to want more information on the fascinating (and highly convoluted!) history of calculating the date of Easter can check out the website for the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, England:
http://www.nmm.ac.uk/explore/astronomy-and-time/time-facts/the-date-of-easter