Drifting into time passages,

Years go falling in the fading light —
Time passages,
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight.
Well I'm not the kind to live in the past;
The years run too short and the days too fast;
The things you lean on are the things that don't last.
Well, it's just now and then my line gets cast into these
Time passages,
There's something back here that you left behind.
Oh, time passages—
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight.
     —Al Stewart

Be careful. . .  There is a metaphor coming.

Seven or eight years ago, I planted a small rhododendron bush next to the steps of our Vermont townhouse to give the place some extra color. I am no gardener, so I stopped at one bush. Still, despite getting plenty of water from rains, run off from the roof, and melting snow, the bush stayed tiny for the first two years. Then the grower who sold me the bush suggested that I also begin feeding it twice a year. Duh! She sold me the right fertilizer, and I measured it out carefully in both the spring and fall and added water as directed. The plant began to grow. Still, my timing was never right to see the plant in bloom. I would see buds in late spring, but we seemed never to be around when the buds opened.
 

Drifting into time passages. . .

 Our daughter Amanda went for a visit to the house one June without us and sent back evidence that the rhododendron not only was blooming, but that its blooms were an unusual color—more pink than purple. The bush was tiny but very alive and beautiful and ready to grow. Since then, I have continued to feed it regularly and marvel at its growth. Somehow, it comes back each year after looking so droopy and sad when it first emerges from burial in snow and ice. Miraculously, there are new leaves and new buds, and the bush gets wider and higher. Another duh! This year, for the first time, we were in Vermont the same week that the bush bloomed. I snapped a picture and added it to the one Amanda had taken four years before. Time lapse photography of a sort. See our garden grow.

 

Time passages. . . Well, it's just now and then my line gets cast into these Time passages

More than six months have passed since I last wrote an entry in this blog. I’ve been busy—writing new books, a grant, loads of multiple-choice and short answer questions, and more. I haven’t been lazy; just a little distracted.

And I spent time in Savannah—quality time with my mother, and final time with my mother. That is hard to comprehend fully. But there’s a funny last-visit story that keeps me smiling.

There's something back here that you left behind. Oh, time passages—

Time runs toward us and away from us. And each year, the rhododendron blooms, whether we are there to see it or not. This year, we got lucky.

 

Drifting into time passages. . .