wine and rhododendrons

Wine, rhododendrons and the promise of spring bring an end to winter doldrums. Finally, I can kneel and work my angst into thawed earth dark as coffee grounds, dirtying my fingers and knees until the muscles of my arms and thighs burn luxuriously. I feel alive.

The sun is riding high and buds are plumping amid warmer winds. Birds coax us to head outside where we watch the grass green up right under our feet. Dad comes to mind as I prune and preen hardened twigs from shrubs and trees; there are so many lovely rhodies for me to tend just like when I was his little kid.

Calvin cannot learn to water or prune or feed, but when I hold his hand as we stroll through the garden between verdant mounds of plum and green, he reaches out to touch their leaves, a splendid testament to how much he's like my Dad and me.

Photo by Michael Kolster

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