I’m sure there’s an un-magical explanation for almost everything in the Universe, but sometimes I prefer to conjure up my own meaning. Take the case of five plum trees that mysteriously appeared in my backyard one day. No one planted them. They sprouted in a perfect line, four to five feet apart, along an unattractive green fence that my former neighbor erected 20 years ago when she acquired a tiny, yapping (though adorable) dog.
On this fairly neglected side of my small backyard, there is a pear tree (the newbies do not resemble it). There is also a flowering plum tree I planted; it picked up some sort of illness and hasn’t grown much in 15 years. If I were a botanist I might be able to reveal how the new trees sprang from the elder trees (if that’s the case), or how a bird dropped seeds in a perfect line, or provide some other logical scientific explanation. But for me, the case is more clearly explained by the fact that I never admired that little green fence (also, I harbored a certain annoyance because said neighbor had a habit of ripping down the honeysuckle that grew upon it).
That neighbor (of whom I grew quite fond) has since moved; the fence remains and my new neighbor spends the spring season generously planting flowers all over her yard. Maybe it’s the general attitude on this end of my block now that promotes the growing of things (at the other end of my dead-end street folks seem to prefer to chop down trees and plant cement). Or maybe it’s that the Universe heard my lament about the honeysuckle. Or maybe the powers that be took pity when it was observed that my plum tree was doing poorly, that our pear trees are getting old, or that I still mourn an apple tree that met an untimely demise.
In any case, I somehow missed the appearance of the five saplings for several years (I did mention my neglect of that area), and by the time they caught my eye last spring they were nearly three feet tall, and looked suspiciously promising. So I left them alone. Yesterday, when I looked outside I noticed that one had burst into pink bloom, and the others are readying their blossoms. Yes, they are still small…four feet tall perhaps at this point. But they will one day be taller and fuller, and hopefully will detract from the fence.
Magical things do pop up in life, like ideas for writing, plum (or cherry) trees, friendships, opportunities, shoes that fit perfectly and are on sale, ice cream cones, soul mates etc. and though we want and need to explain many things sometimes it’s better just to open our arms and accept. I’m grateful that I ignored that part of my yard for so long--my neglect allowed the trees to grow to the point where they could be noticed and valued for what they truly are. Had I been puttering about over there I most likely would have thought they were among the scores of stray oak or maple saplings that pop up every year (I can’t nurture them all, I don’t have the space for a forest). Had I pulled them up I would have missed the magic.
So thank you, Universe, elves, fairies, or industrious garden birds or savvy squirrels. Sometimes, tiny miracles sprout when we’re not even paying attention.
