hope blooms

My dad called me as I left work today to keep me company on my drive home. He’s buying a property in the hills of North Georgia. Ten acres of sunshine to build a cabin on, a place to watch for shooting stars.

He drove there this past weekend – to walk the property lines. It was his first time seeing it all done up for spring time. There’s a long row of daffodils, he said. Then a long row of iris. Then a long row of hyacinth. There are blueberry bushes. And there’s more still left to bloom.

You would have thought he found an oil well, the way his voice lit up as he described the budding scene to me.

But that’s the kind of man he is. The kind who identifies all the birds as they arrive at the feeder – gold finch, indigo bunting, mourning dove, chickadee. The kind who counts his deer encounters as he winds through the trails at Cheatham Hill Park. The kind who ad-libs songs on my voicemail on Friday mornings.

The kind who sees the hope in the jonquils. And calls just to make sure I see it too.

two young girls picking jonquils
Me and my sister, picking jonquils.


12 thoughts on “hope blooms

  1. My grandma is on my mind at the moment, so your post makes me think of her. She knew the names of birds, could echo some of their songs. She had a green thumb when it came to flowers and the garden. I really wish I had learned all the names of the plants from her when I had the chance.

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    1. My mema (my dad’s mom) was the same way. That’s where he got it from. She passed away last year. Even if you didn’t learn all the names of the plants from your grandma, it sounds like you still think of her when you see them, which is a wonderful gift for someone to leave behind. And of course, you can always learn on your own in her memory. Thank you for reading and sharing your story.

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  2. What a wonderful time in your father’s life. I know personally the joy of having a nice chunk of land out in the middle of nowhere just to find peace. You have many great memories ahead of you!

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  3. What a beautiful description. Makes me think of my dad, who recently moved from Connecticut to Arizona, and loves to regale me with stories of scorpions and tumbleweeds. :)

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