Dogwood Blossoms and Snow
By Leonard Oliver Nasman, copyright 1989
May 7, 1989
The dogwood trees are blooming. It's hard to tell. They are covered with fresh soft white snow which hides the big white blossoms. But, even if dogwoods could worry, I don't think they would be bothered much. They must know the snow will be gone soon, and they won't have to fight for attention very long with the white covered branches of those trees that have not yet answered the call of spring.
As a matter of fact, even as I sit on the porch and watch the snow flakes drifting down, I can see the white blossoms emerge as the snow melts from the trees.
The grass is a lovely green color. Some dandelions have bloomed, and have gone to seed already. Sparrows and goldfinches are flitting around harvesting this first spring crop.
The combination of snow and blossoms is a reminder that spring does not always come easily, but it always does come. Winter may not always leave quickly, but it always does leave. Would spring be as lovely without the grey bleak days of late winter? Spring is a time of great beauty, but can there be beauty without contrast? If every tree in the forest were a dogwood, constantly in bloom, would we consider the dogwood as beautiful? Or is it the lacy white blossoms floating in a sea of gray leafless branches that catches our eye, and captures our heart?
Those who seek despair in the world have an easy quest. For despair and ugliness are easy to find. The forest is filled with dead trees and broken branches. We could count the old fallen trees and lament their passing. The goldfinch could cry about the snow on the dandelion seeds. But for a tree to grow old and fall is as natural as it is for a seed to sprout. And the morning snow becomes the mid-day moisture that brings the afternoon flowers that make seeds for a future spring. It is as easy to find beauty as it is to find despair. To search for despair promises a successful search, but offers no reward. To look for and find beauty, however, even in the last snowflake of winter, can bring a quiet joy.
The snow has stopped now. It has already melted from the grass and trees. The sky is getting brighter. I know that when I walk in the bright sunshine down Dogwood Lane, with a deep blue sky above, my senses will be filled with beauty and my spirits will soar.
But a dogwood tree, covered with snow under a gray sky, causes my mind to wonder at the mystery of the ever changing seasons. It causes me to marvel at the cycle of dead old trees and fresh new sprouts, and it causes my soul to be at peace.
