My Hyacinth Miracle

Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits. ~ Carl Sandburg

Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment. ~Ellis Peters

Spring is sooner recognized by plants than by men. ~Chinese Proverb

Last year I bought a very inexpensive pot of hyacinths. I do this every spring. It is a way a greeting and embracing the spring. Usually at some point in the winter, I have a clear-out and throw out the old dirt, as they never seem to survive. This winter has been busy... busy with illness, anxiety and a 'To Do' list that never seems to shrink.

My pot of hyacinths were cut back when they stopped blooming and put on a window sill behind a chair in the conservatory, and hidden from view they were promptly forgotten.

It was my husband who discovered them blooming.

As clearly a miracle has occured, I have moved them to the sitting room and made them the subject of today's post.

Everytime their fragrance wafts my way, I am reminded that soon there will roses in bloom and lavender and warm sunshine...

You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
They called me the hyacinth girl.'
Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.
~T.S. Eliot (The Waste Land and Other Writings)