Redbuds

 

 

I recently moved back to my hometown area. I feel comfortable here.

In my yard I have a beautiful redbud tree (not the one above, my poor photo of my redbud is at the bottom.)  They seem to be everywhere I look.  The blooms start in April, before there are many leaves on trees, so the colors really stand out.  I've always wondered why they are called "redbuds" when the flowers are more pink or purple in color. I know we had redbuds in central NY, but it seems there are even more here. At least I notice them more.

My sister Martha died in an April many years ago and I remember my dad telling me of driving home from the funeral, looking out the car window, and seeing the woods full of redbud trees in bloom. Ever since then, he said, seeing the redbud trees in April reminded him of Martha. When my mother passed away, he had a redbud tree planted by the history museum where they had both volunteered.

One of my favorite things about the trees is how the blossoms can come right out of the trunk, not only sprouting from the branches.  It's as if the plant can't contain its excitement about the coming spring weather. It's bursting at the seams.

For me, the redbuds carry all of these stories--my sister, my mother, my father, and, now, my new home and new beginnings. I'm starting to think I might need to plant another