By Canon Cate Edmonds
One of the delights of this time of the year for me is the appearance of the range of spring flowers. The different types of snowdrops, some tall and spindly, others short, making a white carpet which, from a distance, can look like a snowfall. Then, of course, the perky crocuses appear; purple, yellow and white, some in mixed groups, others in individual colours. This year the primroses with their soft lemon hue have appeared rather early. Moreover, we cannot forget the daffodil, the short Narcisi popping up before their larger brilliant yellow cousins arrive. I am extremely fortunate on my drive into the Cathedral to witness all of these in the hedges, verges and gardens that I pass. Even on the dullest of days, I marvel at the sight of these welcome blooms bursting forth from sodden ground. I know that these blooms appear at this time of year but each year it takes me by surprise.
You may ask which my favourites are, and it is hard to decide. Most probably, it is daffodils as they are able to withstand the vagaries of all weathers. So much so, a few years ago, I decided to plant some daffodil bulbs in our verge beside our road. As I dug down in the autumn to plant the bulbs, I was a little dismayed at the soil; it was very poor clay soil with too many stones. However, I persevered and planted a long row of bulbs. I waited for the first signs of the leaf tips to appear in the new year. To my dismay, I realised that pedestrians walking on the verge were trampling these fragile tips. I thought they would never survive, meaning I would not get the blooms that I had intended. Nevertheless, these valiant plants persevered. Soon their leaves were well above the ground. People were walking around them. In next to no time the golden trumpets lifted up their heads and waved at me as I passed by.
From the gloom of poor soil and the trampling of feet to something beautiful appearing. Every time I pass them and others as I drive by, the verse from Matthew 6 rings in my head,
“Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil or spin,
yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.”
I marvel at creation, the variety and the tenacity. The humble daffodil has much to teach us, it will not be downtrodden. With perseverance, it wins through to raise its head and bring joy to those around. I thank God for the joy of creation. A poem from Christina Rossetti sums up my feelings:
Of humble lessons we would read.
But not alone the fairest flowers:
The merest grass
Along the roadside where we pass,
Lichen and moss and sturdy weed,
Tell of His love who sends the dew,
The rain and sunshine too,
To nourish one small seed. (bulb)
As we travel through Lent let us spend time reflecting on the creation we see around us. For just as those daffodil, crocus and snowdrop bulbs lie dormant in the soil for months and then burst into life, so does the light of Christ burst into our dark times and enable each of us to shine forth his light of resurrection glory.