detail painting, 2000, m/m

One of the many gifts my grandmother gave me

Has to do with the willow tree.

Each year as I was growing up

So often in her company

She stopped me and took my arm and pointed to a tree.

“See there..” she said.

“See just the barest hint of yellow on that tree?”

(We were standing in an inch of snow on the ground)

“Each year, that little tiny bit of yellow will be the signal that Spring is coming again.”

“Pay close attention to the branches and you will catch the very FIRST tender green of leaves.”

“Make sure you stop and really look,

Because that impossibly beautiful yellow-green color

Only happens for a day or two every year

And is very precious

So you want to make sure you don’t miss the show.”

And I never have.

The ‘good stuff’ always seems to happen in a wink

So we don’t have that much time to wallow in the goodness.


2 Responses to “Willow”

  1. Muff on March 7th, 2011

    Somewhat reminds of the Robert Frost poem, “Nothing Gold Can Stay.” When I taught, I saved poetry for the spring, and the students could look out the many windows and see that “gold” as we read the poem.
    It won’t be too much longer until we see that yellow hue which signals spring is about to burst. Can’t wait!

  2. sue on May 10th, 2011

    this is so precious, what a wonderful gift form your grandmother..a wise lady and a lucky girl 🙂 love your willow art too.

Leave a Reply