"We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." ~Maya Angelou

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Promises and Hope

     I transplanted a little Wisteria into the sheltered garden beneath the porch rail, hoping she would grow and twine through the rails all round.  Four years have past and she struggles to thrive.  Last week I decided that I would dig her up once more and move her to a more sunny location.  Wisteria loves the sun. A few days ago I noticed new green leaves and this as well. A tiny frog so new as to have not yet opened its eyes. Sitting there on the railing, it was at its most vulnerable. How on earth did it get up there safely? I have seen frogs like this one only twice before on my porch. It has been two years.

  Then, this morning early, I stepped out to see if it had survived the cats and such, and discovered this. Sticky toes, black stripes and black eyes wide open, it clung to the railing. I believe it lives, or wants to live, in that Wisteria, for that is where I always see this type of frog; amazingly delicate. It looked at first glance like a small green stone.
I want to help it survive, but I know it doesn't need me. It is born knowing what to do.
 I also found this, a flower bud; only the one.  This little Wisteria is telling me not to give up on it. Telling me to let it be. It will find its way to the sunlight on its own, just as this tiny green and black wonder will find its way alone. Hands off, human!

The mother Wisteria, huge, arcing and glorious, has had all its bloom tendrils frozen again this year. That makes three in a row. The Cherry tree is in bloom. 
    In other garden news I have purchased a beautiful-beyond-words rose, the Cinnamon scented Oklahoma. It lives in the prayer garden now with the Gallardias, which is only right, since they are our state flower. I also happened upon a plant native to the prairie which I learned about in a lovely song by Ann Zimmerman, the wild Blue Indigo. It is in that bed as well. Garden therapy.

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