Hot Pink Ceiling & Siren Song of Siren
Azaleas Ablaze & Dance of the Weeping Cherry Tree Shadows
There is one week a year where the afternoon light looms hot pink in our living room. Everything is awash in a glow like throwing a red scarf over a lamp, minus the fire hazard. This time, we’ve tossed azaleas over the sun.
Light bounces off these dazzling, shrubby beauties and jumps up to our ceiling. By 4pm, the living room is decked in pink, and the show’s over by 5. Tomorrow, same time, same place. But only for a fleeting week.
I can’t think of azaleas without thinking of my grandma and great aunt calling their botanical names lovingly, celebrating the big spring flowers. Rhododendrons. Hydrangeas. Azaleas. All of my second grade spelling test words. The azaleas outside are already faded and the pink light is gone until next year. They join Green and Great Aunt Mary as beautiful, outrageous, hilarious ephemerals who are gone but not gone at all. And speaking of fleeting…
Dance is everywhere, even on decks. Just because you’re in the plant kingdom, doesn’t mean you can’t cut a rug. Weeping cherry tree branches dip in and out urgently, passing each other over and over. You couldn’t choreograph more drama. You just have to catch it in the air as it breezes by.
Thanks to my kid for the idea and for noticing the kinds of weird things I like to notice.