B is for Bluebonnets (a/k/a Hope) - by Nan Brooks

“If God is God He is not good,

If God is good He is not God;

Take the even, take the odd,

I would not sleep here if I could

Except for the little green leaves in the wood

And the wind on the water”

Archibald MacLeish wrote this in his play, J.B., a modern version of the story of Job. Leaving the theological discussion about God, goodness, and the sex of the divine for another day, I want to think about hope and wildflowers.

I learned a long time ago that in bad times it is crucial to cling to hope on a daily basis. It’s like a spiritual practice; if I let it slip for a day or two pretty soon, I can slide into despair. I also learned that hope is a choice. Sometimes I do better with that choice than others. I don’t need to belabor the point that it is hard to find hope these days given that we are a country steeped in grief for 500,000 dead from Covid, insurrection, rampant bigotry, all of it. Also, I live in Texas where winter, real winter, reminded those of us willing to notice that climate change is not a hoax and that greedy leadership is dangerous. I will not rant, I will not rant, I will not rant…

So, in hard times in the past I found hope in “little” things. I think what we call the little things usually are pretty important and often they are easy to miss in the natural world. Which brings me to Bluebonnets. These purple wildflowers are also known as Lupine, but here the Bluebonnet is the state flower.  In the springtime a lot of folks make sure to drive to the Hill Country northwest of San Antonio to see the Bluebonnets, which cover entire meadows among the hills and craggy stones.  It’s pretty spectacular, but my favorite places to find Bluebonnets are where they don’t “belong”.  There is a small patch near our home where the neighborhood dogs like to pee. Who knows why, but the Bluebonnets reward us all for the attention of canine pals with a patch about the size of a frisbee.

                                       Bluebonnets on a highway median. Thank you, Lady Bird Johnson.*

In the fall of 2019, my wife scattered Bluebonnet seed balls in our small condo garden. We moved out not long after that because extensive repairs would make the place uninhabitable. We expected to return in four to six weeks. Ha! We returned 13 months later, in January, 2021. Our garden had been damaged by contractors; the baby lemon tree had spots of mold and her leaves were sparse, the butterfly bushes and blue mist flowers were scraggly and the peace plants were ok, but only just. But the aloe was even bigger and more lush, about two feet in diameter and just as tall. We had hope for the garden. Then real winter came to Texas.

                                       The blue most flower shrubs after the winter storm and a bit of green...

When we cleaned up the garden (and by we I mean my wife), cutting back the dead parts of the plants left almost nothing.  The aloe was about to flower, but now is bent flat, broken and seeping – we hope she is healing herself with her own salve. Only patience will tell us. The lemon tree looks bereft, or maybe it is just that I am bereft looking at her. But there in the old mulch and debris, the leaves of one Bluebonnet plant have appeared. My wife looked at it and said, “Well, you wise guy!”  Such wise guys give me hope.

The wise guy.

The other “little” things that provide hope for me are acts of kindness, random or otherwise. Our neighbor Shelia dug in the back of a closet to find a space heater and provided it along with some chocolate cake to help us with (temporarily) frozen pipes. Neighbors checked in with one quick phone calls, “You need anything? Call if you need help with anything at all.” Such threads of care weave together to make a lifeline sometimes.

If, by any chance, you are struggling to find hope these days, please take a moment to call a friend or to notice something blooming, something coming back after a blow like a snowstorm. Know that the wildflowers will bloom.

I choose to hope that the aloe will heal, the lemon tree will blossom and bear fruit, the unending condo repairs will actually be finished and up to code, the country will turn away from hate and violence, the humans of the world will attend to Mother Earth, and our grandchildren will live in harmony. Might as well have hope. 

* Lady Bird Johnson chose highway beautification and wildflower preservation as one of her First Lady issues. The whole country is the better for it. Once asked to identify a small yellow wildflower, the ever-elegant Mrs. Johnson is said to have replied, "Oh, that's a DYF."  "A DYF?" asked a bystander, to whom she replied, "Damn yellow flower."  I do appreciate a wise guy sometimes.