Mystical Murmurs: My Interfaith Life

Below is a photo of eager, premature buds on the little weeping cherry tree we had planted last spring. We never saw it bloom last year -- we bought it after bloom-time. So during our record-setting February warmth, of course, it started to bud. "Don't do that!" I thought, each time I went by. "No more buds!" My grandmother, who lived with us during my childhood, planted a magnolia tree on the front lawn. It was an eastern exposure, and the tree stood completely at the mercy of cold spring winds blowing across the Delaware River. In the 20 years Granny lived in our house, she saw the tree bloom only 3 times! Every other year, a late cold snap or snowstorm would cause the buds to blast and fall. In the morning, there they'd be, littering the ground around the tree. So I'm afraid the same will happen to our weeping cherry, as the storm named Stella sweeps toward us. Though the tree itself won't be harmed, our spring may be a bit less colorful th

February 10th -- Double-Digit February! -- is a day I celebrate with a friend from work. It seems like a meaningful date: winter is fast passing, and March lies just over the crest of the hill. One year he gave me a card with a big "10" on it, obviously meant for a tenth birthday. But I loved it, and have it still. I have started to look at garden and plant catalogs in earnest. At our last house, I had a beautiful flower garden. But for the last two decades, I haven't had time for gardening. With retirement approaching at the end of June, I will have time to devote to weeding. I need to shake off the laziness of winter. Looking forward: it's something I have had a hard time with lately. Since the election, in fact. As the news out of DC went from bad to worse, I found myself sinking into the mire, numb and numb-er. My greatest desire has been for sleep, for escape. But we can't give in to the numbness, can't become complacent. We will keep watching and p