Our pear tree came to life this week with a zillion white blossoms and a million bees buzzing through the branches. This is a tree that my husband refers to as our "tree of Mordor" because it is unsightly in its shape, having taken a beating several years ago in a bad storm. For a while, we thought it would not even survive. Its uppermost branches are forever barren, only good for the hummingbirds who like to perch there in the summer, surveying the area from such a height while resting for a few moments. This spring, however, it's a glorious thing shining there in the middle of the yard in the daylight and the dusk and the moonlight, radiating pure white light and wonder and mystery, a sign, to me, of God's goodness and the goodness of this earth, an ever-present symbol of hope and energy and renewal.
