We were away last week at an RSCJ inter-provincial gathering, in which we focused on the calls and mysticism of Laudato Si, and the call to us all, individually and collectively, to keep hope alive. The lovely grounds and surroundings of Drumalis and the unexpectedly mild weather lent a magical, mystical air to our reflections, and added to the generally relaxed environment in which we were simultaneously inspired and challenged by our guest speakers, our prayer together and each one's contribution.
And then we returned home, and discovered that in our absence spring had been weaving its magic in our garden, now full of burgeoning life and greenness. Sweat pea and sunflower seeds I had sown less than a month ago are already sprouting, determinedly pushing their way through soil, while a previously barren corner is turning green with the first shoots of what will hopefully be bee-attracting wildflowers. Oh, and soon there will be poppies - lots of them! Last year's were clearly very extravagant with their wind-borne, self-sown seeds.
Reading through Saturday's Guardian my attention was caught by a short item on fire poppies. I'd never heard of them before, but as I read, I felt a surge of joy, and hope. Some extracts from the full article will help explain why...
When wildfires swept through southern California last year they left a trail of destruction... Now a rare flower is proving that great destruction can give rise to something spectacular... For an area struggling to recover from fire damage even as other parts of California are swept by a phenomenal super bloom, these inflorescences are a rare, and literal, bright spot.
The fire poppy belongs to a group of plants known as fire followers: those that use the heat, smoke or charred soil as signals to sprout. Their seeds lie dormant for years... Then when the fire hits, it sends a message to begin germination. For fire poppies, the signal comes from smoke. For other fire followers, the heat of a blaze can crack open the hard coating on a seed.
Fire poppies are fleeting: after waiting for the exact conditions to sprout, they may only bloom for a day or two. They could return next year or the year after, until the shrubs come back. After that, they will have to wait for the next blaze.
Great destruction can give rise to something spectacular... Isn't there something so full of Easter and Resurrection in this fleeting, fire-born poppy, and in nature's profligate providence...?
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| No, not a fire poppy - just one from our garden at 11NG |
Reading through Saturday's Guardian my attention was caught by a short item on fire poppies. I'd never heard of them before, but as I read, I felt a surge of joy, and hope. Some extracts from the full article will help explain why...
When wildfires swept through southern California last year they left a trail of destruction... Now a rare flower is proving that great destruction can give rise to something spectacular... For an area struggling to recover from fire damage even as other parts of California are swept by a phenomenal super bloom, these inflorescences are a rare, and literal, bright spot.
The fire poppy belongs to a group of plants known as fire followers: those that use the heat, smoke or charred soil as signals to sprout. Their seeds lie dormant for years... Then when the fire hits, it sends a message to begin germination. For fire poppies, the signal comes from smoke. For other fire followers, the heat of a blaze can crack open the hard coating on a seed.
Fire poppies are fleeting: after waiting for the exact conditions to sprout, they may only bloom for a day or two. They could return next year or the year after, until the shrubs come back. After that, they will have to wait for the next blaze.
Great destruction can give rise to something spectacular... Isn't there something so full of Easter and Resurrection in this fleeting, fire-born poppy, and in nature's profligate providence...?
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