Vine Woman

Cherry blossoms

The cherry trees started to bloom the day before yesterday. It always seems like there is this moment when BAM all the pretty buds burst forth; one moment nothing, the next a riot of pink and white. It has become sort of a spring ritual to look for it, to see if I can catch that moment. Of course I never get the exact moment, but I have gotten pretty good at getting close. We love our cherry trees around here, you are hard pressed not to find a picture of them in bloom or to pass by a stranger without one or the other of you commenting on the sight.

The trees are, in a way, a harbinger of the season to come. A reminder that spring is working hard at getting here. Right now, we are enjoying our typically indecisive weather – one moment sun, the next rain. One day in the sixties to be followed by a hard freeze that leaves the next morning a cold and sparkling frosty landscape; wind, big billowy and dramatic clouds. Spring is often associated with renewal; everything coming to life once again. I like the metaphor and I like that in this corner of the world that renewal rather mirrors the way change happens to us.

There is a line from one of my favorite movies, “Postcards from the Edge” where Gene Hackman tells Meryl Streep that real life isn’t like the movies. In the movies you have a revelation and boom, your life changes. In real life you have a revelation and it takes a few weeks before your life changes.  We like to think of change as something that happens overnight. Like the cherry trees. One moment bare branches, the next an abundant crop of dainty flowers. The reality is that it is more like our weather – one moment sun, the next rain.

I have mentioned before that some of the best wineries, the places I love most, make you sort of work to get to them. That there is something to be said for having to hunt a bit for the good stuff. The work you put in is paid off in what you find at the end of that road. But I think for most of us it too often feels like the good stuff requires more work than we have the energy to put into it. I am watching with friends struggle with jobs, with family, with trying to live the life they dreamed of and finding that dream always beyond their outstretched fingertips.

Maybe that is part of our fascination with the cherry trees. Their almost fragile beauty, the way they seem to burst forth into bright glory with ease; it is deceptive though, isn’t it? We know that the trees have to survive the winter, survive the freezes and the winds, have to dig deep to keep a hold of all that they need to live. For me that is the crux of it: transformation takes a lot of work. A lot of time and a lot of work. It just looks easy from the outside.

New buds against a cloudless northwest sky.

Something wonderful happens on a sunny early spring day here in the Northwest. Something besides the flat out wonderfulness that is a sunny early spring day. We all seem to get a spring in our step as well. I walked to the store this afternoon, reveling in the sunshine and chance for a natural vitamin D boost; passing many of the same people I see out walking dogs, out picking up kids, just out – the same people who will mumble a greeting in return when I grumble a greeting towards them. Today, however, in the sun and the warmth and the promise of the buds on the bare tree limbs we all greeted each other with hearty, happy exultations on the beauty of the day. They usual “morning” or “afternoon” became “How are you today?” returned with an enthusiastic “wonderful!” often followed by a comment on how gorgeous it was, how blue the sky, how warm the sun, the miracle of sprouting bulbs and early blooms.

Instead of the begrudging pulling aside of the cart blocking the aisle, of the curt ‘excuse me’ issued to get to some item on a shelf; today the shop was filled with smiling people who apologized for being in the way (even when they weren’t), who went out of their way to help someone who couldn’t quite reach (and thanks to the lovely gentleman who grabbed the olive oil for me), and who burbled to clerks trapped behind counters that they really needed to get outside. Soon. The usual bustle and business of my favorite market was transformed into something bordering on festive. I swear I was waiting for a musical number to break out in the middle of the produce section.

In the dark and wet months we charge from car to shop and back. We put our heads down and move smartly through the wet and cold to get to the warm dry; and for good reason. Today we looked up and at each other. We smiled and we laughed and we reveled in the sun, a spring in our step.