Magnolia in winter

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? ~ Percy Bysshe Shelly

It's been quite a while since I lived with a magnolia tree, but all that changed when I moved up the road five months ago. There's a magnolia next door, its spreading branches easily visible from my window: like any tree or bush it has no idea of boundaries and fences, and just extends itself wherever and however it pleases - which certainly pleases me!

The tree has been covered in tiny, tight buds all through winter. All through grey, gloomy days and bitter cold... through days of slanting winter sunlight catching it, as if unawares in the morning, and nights partially illuminated by a streetlight... through the rise of Omicron and now, its new variant... through the scandal, paralysis and anger of government chaos... through price rises, death and darkness... through Advent, Christmas, Epiphany and the start of 2022... through all this and more, this tree has carried the hope of spring and new life, and the promise of softly blushing pale loveliness. 

And I see it every morning, as I draw back the curtains, and - however gloomy the day or the news - I am reminded that within all our winters there lie the seeds and the sap and buds of spring... and of hope. 

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?