The Dogwood Tree

Dogwood Tree

I am oh, so happy to report Dad's dogwood has made it to it's first spring.  Having gone out to place the spinner I bought at the coast yesterday -- something with a hummingbird on it, of course -- I noticed the dogwood, standing where it has been since we planted it last September.  With all of the hopes, prayers and positive energy aimed toward this tree my thinking was 'How could it not survive?'

But for me, so much was pinned on the tree emotionally, this gift of love from my work friends, planted in Dad's memory.  Mom and Dad had tried more than once to place a dogwood on this property.  They said the trees wouldn't survive; but I wonder if they just weren't patient enough to wait for delayed blossoming.  Who knows? 

My sister Dawn, my dear friend and brother-in-law, Yo, and I planted the tree in a place where we hoped mom would be able to watch it as it blossoms each year.  I have spent countless times (well, at least 5) touching the branches, checking for life.  There had been definate changes, but no real sign of growth to my uneducated eye.  Pods on the tips of the twigs connected to the branches, stretching forth from the small (oh so small!) trunk which reached down into the earth with the tendrils of roots going where no man could see -- how could I really know if this design, which works so well for thousands of other people, would work on the property so lovingly tended by my father for twenty years.  The man had a light green thumb, great ideas, not a lot of follow through on anything other than pruning.

So this morning, having gone to place the spinner, I turned around and could see a spattering of leaves on this little guy.  It caught my breath.  And, while I have no proof, like the theme of The Titanic, I must believe that the heart does go on.