Our white crabapple trees bloomed last week. The flowers were suddenly bursting in small groups, like strings of popcorn wrapped haphazardly along the branches. The delicate arms of the tree danced and buzzed, alive with bumblebees moving from flower to flower, their legs fat with yellow pollen. There’s nothing so good as this – the springing forth of life – and the beauty of it filled my chest and I thought, how can I move on from this? How can I step away from such rapture to continue in any task but marveling at the tender beauty of our world? How can I be eager for anything but to find my place here with the bees?
And so I did for awhile- stand there- with the buzz filling my ears and the scent filling my nose and the sun on my hair as I studied the buds and the blooms and the bees. I knew the brilliance would be fleeting and sure enough a light rain took the blooms down and the bees moved on to find pollen elsewhere and the branches are now adorned more simply with small green twirling leaves.
But the brilliance was there and it filled me as I stood there with it.