Sunday, April 4, 2021

Easter Morning

My next-door neighbor used to have a camellia tree at the corner of her house, that towered over her roof line, splendid with red blossoms.

When the oak tree fell it smashed most of the plant.  It survived, but in a truncated (sorry) state, ending up as a sturdy shrub.

This spring, after a year of rest, it put out a single bud, a single blossom.  I'm taking that as a portent of hope and rebirth.

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