A few years ago I started a tradition of springtime visits to the UW Arboretum. Given that we grew up in Madison and that my mom is a volunteer guide there, I'm not really sure what took so long. Classic case of not appreciating what you have in your own backyard.
Still, I've enjoyed multiple visits to the arb each spring for the past couple years, watching as winter loosens its grip on Wisconsin, greeting first the magnolias, then the cherry blossoms, then the lilacs. Oh, and taking pictures of the adorable girl in the lovely setting.
I think the first year, I took her in a blueberry dress to see the lilacs, and realized that I could have caught the cherry blossoms if only I'd been a little earlier. And the next year, I caught the lilacs and cherry blossoms but realized that I missed the magnolias. So, it's pretty much become a 5-6 visit spring, including a couple bike rides through.
Last spring was a bit of a challenge. I made it to see the magnolias, but they were a little brown on the edges - was that a late frost as they were emerging? Something like that. I managed to get the girl out in time to see the lilacs. My romanticized view of charming childhood pictures has had to be adjusted a little bit.
For this year, I made my first trip yesterday in the late afternoon with the low angle of the sun shining through the blossoms. The early magnolias were already a day or two past peak - some of the petals looked rather crumpled, as if they had emerged hastily from their buds in response to the urgent demands of the record warm temperatures.
Other trees looked bursting with blooms, but some closer examination revealed petals that were already drooping or a little singed on the edge (I'm blaming global warming and making a new resolution to ride my bike more this season). The ground was already filled with petals.
And I have to admit that I indulge a little vanity with multiple attempts at self portraits. Thank goodness for the digital camera. Although it might seem silly, one offshoot of the self-portrait session is that I end up getting even closer to the magnolias than I might otherwise. In fact, I usually try some configuration of standing behind a laden branch, with my camera arm sticking out at some strange angle.
While I was doing my little maneuvers, standing amidst the profusion of white magnolia blossoms, with the sun shining through the petals, what I was mostly struck with is that sense of fleeting time. Not my usual sense of "ack! I have to hurry up!" but just a general poignancy or nostalgia, slightly tinged with sorrow which is not my usual reaction when faced with the loveliness of the Arboretum in spring.
Watching families come to take pictures of their little ones, thinking about how much has changed since the first time I brought the girl a few years ago.
Looking at the petals that had already fallen and thinking about the very very fleeting nature of springtime (it never lasts long enough in Wisconsin, in my opinion) and the fragility of the flowers, and of life in general. It depends on the weather, of course, but for a magnolia tree there might be, what? three days? a week at peak? Such a short time after standing in the snow all winter long.
And, since I had been listening to NPR on the way to the Arboretum, and the terrible tragedy of Trayvon Martin was on my mind, I also thought of him, and of all the other people who have died so tragically young, particuarly the role that guns have played in cutting short so many lives in our country. What IS to be done? I don't really know, and I can't help some sense of helplessness in the face of the NRA-machine and the fear and hatred that drives people to even own guns, let alone use them.
Being an otherwise optimistic and cheerful person, it was a little odd to be standing in such a lovely setting with such feelings. I wasn't really driven to tears, nor do I think I'm particularly depressed, but I just stood there and looked at the light filtering through the flowers, and felt sad for all the people who would never again have such an experience, and also sad for all the people who are so consumed by their anger and their fear that they will probably also not have such a moment. I hope we can all do more to work towards a world where more of us get to have such lovely spring moments.
