One of the sure signs that spring is invading my world is the return of the columbines. My columbine plant was a gift from my younger daughter for Mother’s Day about four years ago. At that time, it had a couple small, brave flowers balancing on the tops of the stalks, and she chose it from among all the others on the shelf in the nursery department. With permanent roommate’s help, they made the purchase and smuggled it into the car so I wouldn’t see it. Each following year, it has consistently blessed me with a profusion of blooms, showcased among the odd spurs and multi-shaped petals.
The columbine spent its first season of life at my house in a large pot, and the second year I planted it in the ground, making it a permanent fixture of our yard. It has continued to do its part and more, reassuring me each April of the promises of spring: new life, fresh starts, and second chances. Not to mention just looking beautiful every time I leave my house or look out my office window. That — according to the stats I read and blogged about here — just may extend my life expectancy, simply by giving me something beautiful to notice and appreciate. Can’t ask for much more. Go columbines!