365 2014 Day 70 Soon

This post is written by my husband, Chris. He is the one who prunes the fruit trees and grapevines on the farm. I am busy heading to Nashville and he graciously offered to write this post tonight.

 

Soon there will be peaches.

But not yet. There will be no fruit without some previous pruning or careful tending, and not before some farm coaching. With a little help peaches will not only appear, but mature and ripen, making it to harvest. Harvest will be sweet. Juice will spill over onto the smiling cheek and for a brief moment the trials of Earth will be suspended and maybe even pushed back an inch or two. The humble beginning of these peaches remind us that each season has its glory and is telling us a story. Nature is constantly hinting, dropping clues to every casual observer.

Spring is yielding new growth. That which seemed so silent just a few weeks ago now has much to say. It is emerging with fruitful chatter as if to declare victory over the winter. Soft buds growing out of resistant wood is a miracle that barely makes sense. The fact that these buds then grow to become the sweetest of southern fruits adds to the pageantry. We have seen this peachy phenomenon so often (along with its kindred trees and fruit cousins) that we are prone to miss the wonder.

Peach Tree, I’m sure that I haven’t fully decoded your message. At the very least you are telling me that something very tasty is in my future. But perhaps, you are telling me as well that miraculous and highly desirable things grow from places that were cut with the pruners blade.  All that is required is time and the changing of the seasons. On good days I can stretch to believe that you are telling me God’s story, a story behind the story; where I am the tree and that though I’ve been severely and consistently pruned in this life. I only need time and a turn of the page and I will awaken to a fruitfulness that is beyond anything I ever imagined. Soon.

But on many days all I can promise to the tree is: “Dear Tree, I am busy.  I do not have time to visit your wonder or ponder your hints. I may instagram you later from a distance.”

Soon.

Southerner with an iPhone.