As I look over the fields from my office window, spring is blooming everywhere. The redbuds are in full display, their fuchsia petals enhanced by the still brown limbs of trees not fully awakened. Piles of old hay rolls, never claimed to nourish a hungry animal, lie rotting in the middle of the field. Everything that nature reveals, has an underlying story for me. The Bradford pears that bloomed last week in the neighborhood and looked so beautiful, are preparing to cast their deadly spawn which will fill my fields with nasty prickly sprouts that I won’t be able to eradicate. I am in the process of preparing my garden plots for the seeds and plants that will bear fruit in the fall. Grass is already overtaking the sidewalks. Peach flowers are giving way to buds that will form the fruit of summer. Deer and rabbits are looking for the tender plants they know will soon form a feast after winter’s long sleep.
So many stories lie before me, so many analogies.