SMALL SECRETS

Hard frost has spread across our farm for several nights running. The buds on our 890 (or so) grape vines have been out for quite some time, and I am sure that this first bud is no longer viable. I have been in the vineyard on a daily basis pruning vines that grew so vigorously last season, that some of the canes are upwards of 30 feet long, stretched far from their desired location of the mother trunk. We are approaching completion, with perhaps 150 vines left to do. Grape vines, unlike fruit trees, have a primary bud (this is the one that has been burned off by frost) a secondary bud, and even a tertiary bud if all else fails. Still, when you lose the first bud, you have already lost at least half a crop. So, it is kind of depressing to work the vines, despite loving being in the vineyard, in the sunshine, overlooking this beautiful valley.

Each early morning as I come back to the cabin, I pass my small, weedy tulip hill. The tulips budded out several weeks ago with the warm and very early spring. The buds did not open then, and only started to partially open last week, with a little more blossom each day.

Every morning there is one peony tulip that seems to have succumbed to the frost...

lying flat, limp and utterly dead-looking on a bed of Creep(y)ing Charlie. Each day I am sure that it's life has ended...

and each and every day, this happens. It seems incredible to me that it can continue to pop up and open after lying so limply and woebegone each morning.

I am grateful for this daily 'reincarnation' and know that it speaks of promises deep and profound. I take this small gift and treasure it.