Lilies Nevertheless

In Minnesota, spring is a struggle.

I awoke on this April morning to five inches of new snow across the garden–pretty and fluffy but wrong.

On a day like this, it takes imagination to remember what lies beneath the snow. Below the cold drifts, my grandmother’s lilies wait for their chance. Even though they are invisible, they hold their inevitable green and yellow promises close.

They are not worried.

They are not frustrated.

They are not desperate.

They wait patiently.

Theirs are resilient spirits.

I cannot face making another pot of hot soup for dinner, not in April. Instead, I’m looking ahead, trying to be like a lily nevertheless. So we’ll have poppy seed chicken and asparagus with fresh lemon juice. I’ll let a few seeds fall onto the platter.

Dinner will be a reminder of what people forget when faced with April snow.

Seeds.