“There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of life.
” Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget, that until the day God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words, ‘Wait and Hope.”
― Alexandre Dumas
Bumble bee nibbling on a calamondin leaf / Julie Cook / 2014
Ok, so I’ve been on a bit of a global tear recently. . .what with the all headlines these days being troubling, frustrating and indeed frightening.
I have had my small epiphany.
This as I was out watering my small Meyer Lemon tree and Calamondin Tree.
As troubling as the times may indeed be, there is one thing that I know to be true.
There is a concrete anchor in the sifting sands of uncertainty.
No matter how dire our lives may become, there is one thing which must always remain a certainty.
And that is Hope
As we trudge forward carrying on, as carrying on is what we must do, it is the thought, concept and idea that all is never truly lost which is what will propel us forward.
And now you might be asking as to where one would find this obscure ideal of which I speak. . .
Thankfully, we need not look far. . .
for Hope is constantly around us.
I was a most fortunate observer of this concept of Hope yesterday afternoon as I was watering my two little fruit trees. It was here where I found my epiphany.
You may remember several months back, when we were all just emerging from the winter from Hell, I posted a couple of pictures of my two little fruit trees which had wintered in our basement during the course of the long winter.
An onslaught of spider mites had stripped both trees of every single leaf. I had put two seemingly healthy trees up for the winter in November at the first frost—with each tree being full of leaves and ladened with ripening fruit. Yet as the winter wore on and as I picked the ripening fruit, the spider mites devoured my trees. I did everything I could do. I pulled them out on warmer days hosing them off, hand rubbing the leaves in a vain attempt to rid them of the nearly invisible parasites. I couldn’t spray them with any poison as they still were bearing fruit.
Finally when the weather folks sounded the all clear for no more destructive deep freezes, I pulled the small trees back outside to bask in the warm Spring sun. Next I bought an insecticide soap and oil. I sprayed down the remaining sticks–as that was all that remained of my tress—brown sticks.
And then I simply waited— and I hoped.
I rolled the two trees, in their massively heavy pots, back to their familiar place on the front walk, fertilizing and reapplying the oil on a regular basis. As Spring continued to work her magic, the brown sticks began sprouting small leaves. Soon more and more leaves emerged. And eventually long tender new stems began to grow outward.
Today, amazingly, both trees are once again looking like healthy green, full leafed, lush fruit trees.
Each tree is sporting beautifully fragrant blooms accompanied by tiny new fruits.
And there are bees.
Lots and lots of happy pollinating bees.
There was a time several months back when I really thought I’d have to scrape the trees, sending them to compost heaven. I figured I was not a fruit farmer as citrus trees are not hearty here in Georgia and I was just fooling myself thinking that I could resurrect green leaves from dead wood.
But the waiting paid off.
My small efforts of oils and fertilizers, coupled by the warming days of sun and the refreshing spring showers, worked their magic.
For the time being, all is well with my little trees—and I know that there may be some new maladies waiting for my little trees somewhere down the road, yet for today, I will relish in the intoxicating fragrance of their tiny white blooms, marvel at the myriad of busy bees and butterflies helping to bring about new life in what was once brown dried up sticks, and lovingly watch my tiny little fruits grow plump and ripe.
Hope—
without it, we have nothing—with it we have everything.
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