Trope (n.) from the Greek, tropos: a turning.
The persistence of living things to turn towards the light and warmth of the sun is astounding. Even under the threat of March’s dizzying bi-polar tendencies, the daffodils are pushing through. Dare we say that spring is here? The crocuses are saying yes, it is. So, is the beloved redbud. Do we worry about them? Well, yes, we do. They say that only death and taxes are inevitable. We beg to differ. The blades of dark green hyacinths have been forcing themselves through the topsoil since February. Global warming we chime? Maybe, but do any of us regret the splashes of color that dot our landscape as we muster the stamina to get through winter?
When next you try to understand the sanity of anything complicated: whether it be the tax code, Medicare, the Republican national debates on television; trust the reliability of life to find its way out of the dark, to turn towards the sun and explode with its own creative and inherent dash of beauty. It’s always there for us. We hesitate: flowers don’t. So, keep in mind that we trope too. The Barn Swallow is here to offer companionable light for all who are in need of a turn. Photos courtesy Steve Jorstad.