Rich, fertile soil, a shining sun, chance encounters: these all add up to possibilities. But one day of sun isn’t enough to encourage the budding of a dormant bush. Most of my garden is budding, flowering, blooming and generally running over with life. My pomegranate is not. After a reminder that the pomegranate, in Armenian lore, is a symbol of rebirth/resurrection, I re-examined my once leafy but slightly stunted tree. No visible signs of life today.
I gathered up my Felco pruners and two litres of water, took a deep breath and snipped at one twig, confirming its state of lifelessness. The pomegranate, like many other fruit-bearing trees, has thorns, some of which are long enough to be mistaken for branches. However, I was wearing my glasses, otherwise, I might have given up my search for life and consigned this treasured plant to the compost heap.
I cut again, deeper toward the main stem. Green. Another cut. Green again. On a slant, across the dry, brown growing tip of the stem. Green, lush, vibrant.
Cutting out the dead wood and finding the essence of the thing is just one of the joys of creation.
6 Comments
Love the imagery of cutting away the dead and finding the living.
Thanks, Jeff. Another of those natural metaphors you were talking about in your blog yesterday.
Did you see I’ve added Four Foxes One Hound to my Blogs I Read? A plug for you!
Yes, I do see it now.
Thanks for the plug!
My pleasure.
Leigh,
I love your nature metaphor for writing. Very creative. I also wish I had your touch with green (or soon-to-be) growing things. Hope that pomegranate makes a full recovery.
Hello, Barb. Thank you for stopping by. I’ve got my fingers crossed for the pomegranate. Seems a bit slow for the warm, sunny weather we’ve had. Considering the neglect of the past and its survival to date, I’m a bit worried that tender, loving care may have smothered its will to live!