Springing to Life

Here in the Cévennes, we are experiencing a chilly spring. A few days of sunshine tease that we're headed into warmer weather. We pull out short-sleeve shirts and lighter weight clothing, only to return to multiple layers the next day. As I write, I'm wearing winter flannel-lined pants and fingerless gloves. The fire in my wood-burning stove takes the edge off a bit.

Despite the colder temperatures than usual, signs of life still burst forth. After an abundance of rain, some flowers bloom in profusion, like my neighbor's glorious wisteria.

I wish I could share the scent. Heavenly!

Last spring, a swarm of bees landed in the wisteria at my home and workplace, the Château de Planque. We received them as a blessing, a specific gift from God. Earlier that year, a dear friend had given us a "Flow" hive, and the bees arrived on a date that has particular significance for her. Amazing! We had the hive (almost) set up and were looking into purchasing bees when the swarm came to us.

Can you see the swarm on the left? You could certainly hear them. Our hive on the right, when the bees were still busy.

We checked on the bees all winter, gave them supplemental food, but alas, they did not survive. Others lost their hives also, so we're investigating why this might be. We will try again! I'm watching this year's wisteria in case a new gift arrives in the same spot.

Will bees swarm in the same place twice?

In early spring, the local sheep come down from their winter grazing grounds. I never quite know when they'll be back. This year, I heard the music of their giant brass bells before I saw them. What a joy to come upon them unexpectedly. Even more so, when a new lamb, or two, has just been born. NEW life before my eyes.

Doesn't this new mama look happy?

With the cooler weather, the flowers bloom slowly, sporadically. All the more reason to search out their hidden beauty. Tiny blooms are easy to miss but delightful to discover. One of my French friends gathers them—a lot of them—to make a violet syrup to add to beverages or baked goods.

Wild violets

I love the way this similar plant grows in crevices of our ubiquitous rock walls. I had to look up the name: Ivy Toadflax!

Ivy-leafed Toadflax

Fruit trees of all sorts are showing their first flowers. While an abundance of blossoms is always spectacular, there is something special about these first small bursts of color. Their beauty highlighted in contrast to still gray skies.

Future peaches

Future plums

More future plums

Future apples

Future quince fruit

Future wine

Everywhere I look—when I truly see—there are signs of life. A neighbor's vines sprouting leaves, our fig tree's tiny hands waving hello, apple and plum branches laden with delicate flowers that portend bountiful fruit. Slow beauty abounds.

Future figs

Future salad garnish

These little daisies pop their heads through the fast-growing weeds of my garden. When I'm outside early in the morning tending to the chickens, the tiny blossoms are closed. Once the sun comes out, even behind the clouds, they open their tiny faces. Bonjour!

A highly creative friend had me over for lunch. Look at that gorgeous salad! The little blue flowers are borage. She picked both in the wild on her morning walk. All edible, of course.

My favorite walk takes me by our river Vidourle. Every year, this orchid-colored trees blooms first, heralding spring.

Chinese Redbud (I think!)

A little farther on, this beauty appears:

Judas tree or Mediterranean Redbud

How did the Judas tree come by this particular name? The story goes that Jesus' betrayer hanged himself from this type of tree, causing its flowers to blush in shame. Most likely, this was a translation error, as this tree, common in the Middle East, was referred to as arbre de Judée in French, meaning Judea's tree. In any case, the name Judas tree is now firmly attached to this beautiful plant here in France.

I'm writing this post on Good Friday, the day we remember Jesus' gruesome death on the cross. In love, he paid the ultimate price for the sins of the world, available to us simply by believing in him. His death followed by his resurrection—a springing to life of the highest order—insured the possibility of abundant life now and forever. The life we were made to live. A gift of grace impossible to fully fathom. A gift we see repeated every spring in nature, when out of the darkness of winter, life bursts forth again.

Future LIFE

First tulips popping up

First irises and the blazing yellow forsythia prove that complimentary colors do indeed work well together

Another favorite walk is by a section of the river Vidourle through the center of my little town, St. Hippolyte du Fort. While it's always lovely, some days offer stunning beauty, full of promise, full of hope.

River Vidourle at sunset A rainbow promise

Beauty abounds, resurrection life springs forth. Search for it, receive it.

La vie est belle...