the camellias are speaking
Every spring as the vibrant camellias bloom Rufwood comes to life once again.
One’s gaze turns from muddy puddles, to a panoply of pink and white from shin high to just below the telephone cables.
These bearers of hope enjoy a woefully truncated season, before being ravaged by the rains and frosts of early March.
Whole flowers fall to the ground, cut off from the life giving shoots above.
And each year the petals cry out to me of another life that was cut short.
And being in anguish,
he prayed more earnestly,
and his sweat was like drops
of blood falling to the ground.
Luke 22 v44
A hymn comes to mind, you can hear it here.