On the morning before Earth Day, the first small blossoms of Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis) are blooming in a sunny southern corner of the garden behind the little blue house. A few years ago, I transplanted this specimen into my garden in the village as a way of maintaining some connection with the Lanark Highlands. There are no bright colours here, just the morning light and this small glowing white amid last year's leaves.
Small is better, and as I grow older, I love the idea of living smaller and lighter — I love the thought of leaving no discernible marks on this good dark sacred earth of which I am such a microscopic and insignificant part — that makes makes infinite sense to this twittening and rather absent minded elder. In time, I shall disappear altogether, and all that will be left of me here is a bit of pollen and dust, a faint breeze carrying echoes of song and raucous laughter, perhaps these memories of green leaves and glowing jewel-like colour. Call it celebration. . . .
2 comments:
When I go, I would like to go cleanly without leaving any trace. I once read about a Japanese female novelist who wishes to burn all her possessions including her old manuscripts and journals when she leaves. When I travel, I do so light.
The freshness of the bloodroot against the leaves draws me. More promises?
Small IS better! Each year we have been trying to live wiser, to get rid of the "things" that have become a burden and to find ways to be less dependent on outside resources - progress is slow but there is progress. I love the idea of disappearing altogether...and celebration
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