Mountain Blog

Back from the brink of death

These are pictures of a crape myrtle planted on the property where I have lived for 55 years. It was planted by my mother circa 1950.

But thereby hangs a tale:

She must have planted it in the wrong place. It was under a tree near the house and it didn't thrive for more than 40 years. In fact, when I had some bulldozer work done on my property late one cummer about 10 years ago, it was barely a sprout though the root was four decades old.

I forgot to tell the bulldozer operator to work around the shrub. He bulldozed it.

Oh, well, I thought. I hated to lose something planted by Mama but it was destined to die anyway.

The following spring, about 20 feet away from where it was previously planted, a fragile sprout appeared. I recognized it as the crape myrtle. It was alive - barely.

So I mowed around it and threw some fertilizer on it. Look at it today. It's 10-feet all and in full bloom. Moving it accidentally 20 feet made all the difference.

I wish I could take credit for saving my mother's 55 year old shrub, but I can't.

It's a reminder to me that life is perhaps the most potent force in the universe and the will to live is strong - very strong indeed - among all living things.

Walt Whitman said the smallest sprout shows there is really no death.

And when the sprout becomes a 10-foot tree, it transform his premise into the ultimate reality.

posted by Dave Peyton @ 3:03 PM