April is that month in Ohio where everything starts to sprout, and when it happens, it seems to happen de la noche a la mañana, or overnight. You go to bed and there's nothing above ground and you wake up and there's all these little signs of life edging themselves up toward the sun. When you live in these parts, where nature dies over the winter, it's revealing to see that the first color of life isn't green--it's red. The first buds, when they appear about mid-April, are reddish in color and later they turn green. It gives everything this crimson aura that signals the pulsing of life within, itching to come out.
The magnolia tree in front of our house in the small city is always a glory. It hits its peak right about now and when the sun salutes it in the afternoons it looks like a radiant, blushing bride, opening herself to a new life. It is simply a perfect tree. Last year, we had a frost in late April that killed the blooms (thankfully, not the tree) and I wept for days when I saw the pretty-pink petals drooping and burned brown by the frost. Thankfully, there doesn't appear to be any cold spell coming over the next few weeks so maybe we will be spared that suffering this April. We can only hope.
The gloriousness of the magnolia tree is rather ephemeral. Probably by next week, when its green leaves come out, it'll lose its blooms and drop them, like a bird molting its feathers.
But, by then, we'll have the tulips in full bloom and my beloved bleeding hearts, which have just started to show their tiny heart-shaped flowers, will bring it on. Without a doubt, spring is really a marvelous time of the year here.
It reminds me that, despite any frustrations or setbacks or doubts, life reinvents itself every year about this time. Life, despite death, is unstoppable. That's a good thing to always remember.
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