The Colors of Hope

“Milk and honey ’till we get our fill, I’ll keep chasing it, I always will. Sooner or later, I swear we’ll make it there. Sooner than later, sooner or later.” ~ Mat Kearney

It was the season of no flowers. The earth had drunk no rain during that sweet summer, and what normally would have been a magnificent garden of beautiful blooms was thirsty, faded foliage. There were no azaleas to be seen. Instead, a gorgeously green, weeping willow tree set the scene for a momentous photo shoot.

There they were on that day of black and white happiness: just kids, seeing the world through those green, untested eyes of theirs. They smiled and jumped high into the air, returning to earth about a half second later. That snapshot, captured between jump and land, represented the dreams that were taking flight in their minds. Like Gatsby seeing the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock, those kids were reaching for hope…

(…continued from above…)

~ Seven years, and nearly seven more have come and gone since that day. Countless adventures, moves, memories, life lessons, photos, laughs, heartaches, souvenirs, challenges, and reinventions of reality. Life isn’t picture perfect, but it’s beautiful in ways I never could have imagined. On and on and on the train has been clickety-clacking through new seasons…and sometimes making stops at old locations.

~ I’m thankful for today. This season, the azaleas are blooming in all their colors of glory! But the sight of the weeping willow tree this afternoon was cause for confusion. Hadn’t green leaves once adorned her long, graceful branches reaching down toward the water? Now she just looked bare and lifeless. Was this the same tree from years ago? Of course, it had to be. But it was almost unrecognizable compared to the gorgeously green tree in my old photographs. I thought about the stark contrast between now and then, and later showed ChatGPT the photos for comparison because I needed answers.

The tree in this older picture does look like a classic weeping willow. You can clearly see the long, thin, curtain-like branches hanging down, and the foliage has that soft, draping “waterfall” look typical of willows. It’s growing right by water, which is exactly where willows thrive. In your recent photo, those defining features are mostly gone. If it’s the same tree, the most probable explanation is heavy pruning or damage. Weeping willows are often cut back hard in order to manage size or remove storm damage. When that happens, they can temporarily grow back with upright, thicker branches instead of graceful drooping ones. It can take several years for the classic weeping form to return.

About the “missing blooms” ~ a willow’s blooms are small and easy to miss, especially on a pruned tree, and heavy pruning can reduce or delay blooming. If it’s focusing on re-growth, flowering can take a back seat. Not seeing blooms right now isn’t a red flag, especially for a stressed or reshaped tree.

I think I’ll be marveling at this comparison for awhile. Let’s just say I did not expect a life lesson on resilience from a simple question about tree types, but here we are. I would like to go give this tree a hug now. What unseen difficult seasons has she also endured? Nature isn’t so different from us.

It’s undeniable; there is a time that exists for everything, but alas, not everything can flourish simultaneously. A time for lush leaves and no flowers, and a time for the scene to be reversed. A time for fire, and a time for rain. For black & white…for gray…and for color. A time for seeds to make flowers, and a time for flowers to make seeds. Nature demands that seasons must change. Re-growth brings new life, even though it often looks different than we pictured it.

Posing for a snapshot today, I thought about those kids as I turned my gaze across the water. If they could see us now, they might think multiple lifetimes have occurred in the last seven plus seven. But they’d see us living our best lives today, both right where we’re supposed to be. The map of the world doesn’t always accurately portray how reality will unfold. And yet I wouldn’t change a thing. Every plot twist and turn has led to this new chapter; this beautiful and unexpected season of flowers.

“Hope” imagery…

…Young love, when you think that you know everything.

…On familiar land, dreaming of the future.

…Unopened flowers in the garden. 

…Naive and optimistic.

…Gorgeously green.

“Hope fulfilled” imagery…

…Listening to the deluxe version of an old album; more to the story awaits.

…On the other side of the water, living the dreams of the past.

…Vibrant flower paths on a sunny day with your best friends. 

…Eyes that still sparkle after heartache.

…Daylight blue.

Hope fulfilled comes sooner or later. It isn’t a distant green light on the opposite shore, nor is it a bouquet on the windowsill in the house on the hill. It’s the new life established after a person makes the great journey; the discovery of a floral path blooming in full color after a person survives the drought in the wilderness. Hope fulfilled is the dream that refused to give up.

~ In another (and very recent) season of change, I’ve been grateful for the time I’ve had to ponder and wander through nature paths and grocery aisles without hurriedly rushing away. I think we have everything to gain by taking time to smell the roses (and azaleas!), and to let music work it’s magic in the most simple of locations. Thank you to one of my favorite musical artists for being the conductor on the train of inspiration for this blog while I was out shopping for cake ingredients. These songs capture memories and emotions I can’t fully put into words, so I’ll let the music finish speaking for me. ~

“Nobody knows the trouble we’ve seen, and nobody knows the price of this dream, and nobody knows what it took to believe, nobody.” ~ Mat Kearney

“Sooner or Later” & “Runaway” by Mat Kearney