Maybe I just wasn't paying attention in years past, but I don't recall ever having seen the dogwood trees blooming so magnificently as they are now. Especially in the little valleys or coolees between the hills, where they are joyously shining like so many bright snowflakes caught in mass profusion, one can't help but catch one's breath and in the next give thanks and praise to God for the glorious beauty of His creation.
Cherokee County is rough country, and the roads are mostly lined with weeds and brushy scrub oak like the kind pictured above. Against such a backdrop, the graceful, almost delicate dogwoods stand out like diamonds in a rockpile. The contrast is astonishing. This calls to mind what we are called by Our Lord to be in the world: the light, the salt, and the leaven, the sheep amongst the goats, the blossoming dogwoods amongst the twisted, barren brush of a fallen world.
"By their fruits, you will know them," said Our Lord, or even perhaps by their blossoms. When others look at us, do they see brave little blossoms of white, or leafless giants good for nothing but to house crows and vultures? Let us imitate the humble dogwoods, going unnoticed the rest of the year, but giving glorious testimony of the Heavenly Gardener in Paschaltide. Amen. +
The opinions expressed on this website are my own personal views and do not necessarily represent those of the Catholic Church.
If I have erred in any statement, whether directly or by implication, in any matter pertaining to faith or morals, I humbly invite fraternal correction.