A Miracle Like Pink Dogwood



After all, I don’t see why I am always asking
for private, individual, selfish miracles
when every year there are miracles like … dogwood.

~Anne Morrow Lindbergh




It started last week.  The tree right in front of our porch, having looked dead for the past six months, started to bud out in subtle pink petalled blossoms. The previous week there had been nothing remarkable whatsoever about the tree.

This week it is a feast for the eyes, almost blinding in its brilliance.

Each year the dogwood startles me.  From dead to brilliant in a mere two weeks.  And not only our tree, but every other pink dogwood within a twenty mile radius has answered the same late April siren call:
bloom your heart out!
dazzle every retina in sight!

And it is done simultaneously on every tree, all the same day, without a sound, without an obvious signal, as if an invisible conductor had swooped a baton up and in the downbeat everything turned pink.

Or perhaps the baton is really a wand, shooting out pink stars to paint these otherwise plain and humble trees, so inconspicuous the rest of the year.

Ordinarily I don’t dress up in finery like these trees do.  I prefer inconspicuous for myself.  But I love the celebratory joy of those trees in full blossom and enjoy looking for them in yards and parks and along sidewalks.

Maybe there is something pink in my closet I can wear.  Maybe conspicuously miraculous every once in awhile is exactly what is needed.

Then again, I think I’ll leave the miracles to the trees…




If you stand in an orchard
In the middle of Spring
and you don’t make a sound
you can hear pink sing,
a darling, whispery song of a thing.
~Mary O’Neill from Hailstones and Halibut Bones “Pink”

7 thoughts on “A Miracle Like Pink Dogwood

  1. Am enjoying the gift of your visual treat. Just woke up and, as usual, your blog is the first place I hit. That sets the tone for my day.
    Today, I see that you are ecstatically midst an explosion of glorious, multi-hued pink Dogwood. Oh, to be in that scene, Emily. When we were kids there was a rumor that the indentations at the tip of the Dogwood petals were reminders of Jesus’ crucifixion nail marks! In retrospect, I’m not sure that I liked that image then. The only Dogwood that I see here are few and far between and are not totally pink – they’re white with pink tips and they do not last too long. In much too brief a time, the earth space where they are planted are heavily strewn with their dropped petals. That always made me sad. I thought they should have been made to last longer. Wonder if there is a message in their brief longevity?

    Nice to see Anne Lindbergh here. I have two of her books. What a tragic life she lived. She found great solace in nature – particularly in the sea, the primordial place of our beginnings.

    BTW, Emily, go ahead and do it! Find something in your closet (or buy something new) in a deep flashy pink blaze of color, dab on some bright pink lipstick and join the color riot along with the Dogwood — and surprise and gladden your patients and colleagues!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I don’t think the clinic staff and patients would know what to do if I came in dressed in something other than my usual earth tones…!


  3. Another good read. Love the quotes you use. You must read all the time! My Kousa dogwood ‘Satomi’ blooms later in spring, the flowers sometimes hanging on until July.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Glorious indeed! My husband and I are thinking of adding trees for our deceased parents, 2 white dogwood for our fathers, and 2 pink dogwood for our mothers .Love your photography, and selections of writings/poetry as well.

    Liked by 1 person

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