BLOOD ROOT

We all rush about so much, hustling to work, hurrying to get kids off to Little League, swimming, baton twirling or a dance class. Then it is time for a quick dinner and an evening out or, if you have a family, then its off to a recital or a soccer match. Even we Seniors have a full schedule! All of this bustle and we never, or at least rarely, take the time to look about us. To see what God has gifted us with in our daily lives - a pigeon wobbling after a crumb, a blue sky or indeed a rainy one - have you really taken the time to look at the sky recently? Or what others wear daily in the subway or at work; it can be an entertaining pastime; your son or daughter’s baseball outfit? How about the architecture which surrounds us? I truly see something new every day now that I take the time to look. Here in the city the wonder of the buildings, new and old, is captivating. And, at my Catskill retreat I spend hours just looking out from my sun room at the mountains and the fields and the lovely stream. I never tire of just looking and perhaps walking and discovering some plant or stone which I have not seen before.

I had lost another very good friend a number of years ago to AIDS. He (Hollis, not his real name) was a co-worker and we shared a love of theater and of gardening. He and his partner commuted from Westchester to the city namely because that allowed them to have a fairly large vegetable and flower garden. Their property was landscaped beautifully and obviously a work of love. The garden had a small rivulet which allowed for a diverse planting of moisture loving plants. One of these was Blood Root (Sanguinaria canadensis). It is an early bloomer, a harbinger of new life and a signal that the snow and cold have indeed passed. The American Indians attributed the boiling of its blood red roots and the tea so produced as a cure for bronchial coughs and general well being - not generally believed by our doctors of today. Its bloom is a single, fragile, white flower.

Recently I was going through a box of clippings and assorted cards and I came across the memorial from Hollis’s funeral of years ago. He had begun to write during his last year and his family had included one of his poems. It was a gentle reminder to me to look about. I offer it to you.

Will the blood root bloom next spring
if I’m not here to tend it?
Will the next tenant rake them away
with the autumn leaves?
Their blossoms wave like banners in the wind -
See me now they cry! See me now!

Thanks, Hollis.