Winter Miracles in Red 

This past Wednesday morning, stepping from my bedroom cottage, climbing on the terrace wall to get ready to swing, a miracle – in German we say Wunder – flashes before my eyes: the Camelia bush has unfolded one of its magnificent velvet red blossoms. How can it be? ­It is way too early. But then, a second later, I understand: here is my birthday present :)  Flooded with gratitude, I smile back and carry the red miracle into my busy day…. 


Since my childhood, I believe that all things weave themselves secretly and unseen. Sometimes we get a glimpse – a miracle appears. The beauty that arises brings wonder, awe and joy – I could feel the movement of ephemeral braiding in my own limbs. And I regularly invented secret movement sequences for myself to mirror this phenomenon. December, the month of darkness, was especially the time for Wunder to manifest. A flickering flame of candle putting me into trance. Silence of snow. Then, a piece of music would break my heart open – a landscape to be entered – flowering shapes in many shades of red, ever shifting….  Post-war Germany was a dark place, somewhat grim, and perhaps my imagination needed to weave a world of miracles…. Remembering vividly this year, I am glad I never let go of this practice. Throughout my life many more practices have been braided into my secret childhood rituals. 



This morning flocks of robins visit Karinaland, flitting about in the oaks and getting drunk on the red fermented berries from my bushes. What a wonder to behold. I always wait for this, hoping to be able to witness. Some years ago, there were about 100 robins, the cacophony of their excited voices an extremely loud symphony of joy. Awestruck – feeling engulfed and drunk myself – I laugh and twirl about. It is December after all :) my favorite month… 




Comments

  1. The nature of the weaving is love. What a beautiful expression in pictures and words. The camelias knew they were loved and couldn't help but return the favor or was it grace:)

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  2. I've never known someone to share their joy like this. I think it is shameful in the US to be joyful. I try to imagine one of my parents twirling like you say, and in my imagination I feel embarrassed to have witnessed...

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  3. i love reading & hearing your memories and experiences with the plant neighbors, animals, and life. so many delightful moments that are treasured. it takes an open & present mind and soul to witness as well as create the miracles and beauty of the world around us. these reflections are poetry.

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