As parts of the UK experience the first chill and snow of winter I marvel at magnolia buds revealed by stormy winds. Until very recently my small magnolia tree (a 50th gift from a friend) was in leaf and the hopeful buds grew concealed. It was a thrill to notice them and this week one leaf remained - I considered plucking it as keepsake but resisted, leaving it do its own thing. Today the young tree is bare of leaf and full of bud and I love how at winters threshold the fizz and pop of spring is patiently biding its time. Next years promise held tight throughout winter, wonderfully visible and breathtaking.
This observation will turn me into a bud and shoot spotter; the gorgeous fur of magnolia bud and heart swelling green of daffodil leaf tip. Nature reminding all that the only constant is change and nothing stands still.
What a difficult two years we have had, collective trauma, ongoing pandemic, variants and alarming news. What hope in the bud, the shoot? Many may feel frustrated and thwarted, plans scattered, the veneer of control fallen like autumn leaves. Each time I notice a bud I'll remember to take a deep breath, to value signs of life and celebrate keeping on keeping on. The future is locked up tight, safe, renewal on the horizon. For now though, I'll willingly lean into winters nudge towards introspection and acknowledge the necessary endurance of these times.
