Today is officially spring.
And, to mark the occasion, the magnolia tree outside my living room’s picture window burst into color, seemingly over night. The change in view was so dramatic, I blinked at the tree for a few moments, wondering where it came from (admittedly, I hadn’t had my coffee yet, so my brain was still asleep).
Of course, the tree didn’t exactly bloom over night. For months, it was there, all awkward and spindly, slowly waking up after winter, grumbling and stretching and feeling for the sunshine in all the gray.*
A lot of unseen processes skittered about beneath the surface, preparing the tree to flower at just the right time. Despite the unusually warm winter. Despite the other flowers that bloomed prematurely in February. Despite all other reason for it to bloom earlier because conditions seemed right, it waited to bloom when it was ready.
When that moment arrived, it was startling. It was as if before that moment, I only saw the idea of the tree. A shadow of its true tree self. And, though it took its time to show me what it really is, it’s still beautiful in its own right, and just as beautiful as the other trees that bloomed before it.
*Note: this may not be scientifically accurate.