We bought two bunches of wallflower plants from the market, not expecting to see any flowers until next Spring. But they’re all blooming. My Dad was a keen gardener and a good one and he would have been totally amazed by this. But I remember the winters when I was a girl were bitterly cold and snowy so no flowers at all then. Only ice flowers on the water in the old quarry. I’d forgotten those ice flowers which broke wide open when anyone fell into that desperately cold water and one of the older children had to be fetched to rescue them. One of the worst problems the rescuers faced was the ice, sending both rescuer and drowning child slithering and sliding out of reach so more and more dangerous attempts had to be made until the rescue was accomplished.
Today, in Spring, we are warned of bitterly cold weather on its way, snow on top of the hills and freezing cold winds but we hang on to the promise of summer.
WALLFLOWERS IN NOVEMBER
The old gardeners would never have
believed it.
Not wallflowers in November.
Why, that would have been against all the
laws of nature,
Unheard of.
Yet, here they are,
Smiling into the crisp November morning.
Their velvet yellow petals
Reminding the cold air of Spring,
Their dark reds almost bringing alive
The sultry sweetness of summer.
One glance is enough to reveal
The energy of those glorious flowers,
Enough to set the world on fire,
More than enough to put bitter frost in
its bitter place,
No killing will ever happen here.
Wallflowers in November can do that.
Their petals scent the days
Even when the trees are dying,
Giving lie to all those stories
Of life and death endings.
Laying claim, once for all, to no endings here.
Just wallflowers in November.
©2019 Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 