Sometimes we ponder and ponder in hopes of eventually mustering the right words to tender an emotion, offer inspiration or purpose newfound knowledge. That is exactly where I found myself today with thoughts enveloped in the “spiritual essence of Easter” as my Foxie and I celebrated the resurrection in the quietness of our home.
Ah! The wonders of the Internet directed my fingers toward exploring its limitless boundaries in search of something overpowering. Webcrawlers fetched page after page delivering data, information, pictures, videos, etc. At the end of the day, a plethora of windows had opened stroking my heartstrings with sights and sounds of wonder and passion. For every time a window opened a new window was discovered that led to another window and . . . Oh, my! Sounds like something venomous caught in a silky web waiting to be a tasty appetizer while life begins to ebb! Doesn’t it?
Needless to say, my efforts were not in vain. The words of my heart had already been written and laid to rest upon the sands of time to be revisited and never forgotten. Now, I share with you, my readers and followers, what thoughts I discovered on this day regarding the Easter Lily. . .
“Rightly the lily is the flower of Easter. It lies buried in the ooze of pond or stream. There is the grave of the dead lily that appeals to nostril or eye. But silently the forces of life are dark and the damp to prepare a glorious resurrection. A shaft of green shoots upward toward the sun. This is followed by a cluster of tiny buds. One day the sun smiles with special warmth upon the dank, black ooze, and there leaps into the light a creature of light and beauty; it is the lily, an angel of the earth, whose look is light.”
—Author Unknown
How did the lily come to grace the fields of America? The cultivation of lilies did not originate in the United States for the lily is a native of Japan. History reveals the account of a WW I soldier, Luis Houghton, bringing a suitcase full of hybrid lily bulbs to the South coast of Oregon in 1919. Houghton freely distributed bulbs to his friends and neighbors. Because of the events of war, the Japanese source of bulbs was abruptly cut off. Therefore, those growing lilies as a hobby noted the value of lily bulbs sky-rocketing and many decided to go into business on their own. At that time, Easter lily bulbs were known as “White Gold,” resulting in cultivators attempting to cash in on the crop. By 1945, there were about 1,200 growers producing bulbs up and down the Pacific coast, from Vancouver, Canada to Long Beach, California.
Of course, this post cannot end without my own personal atonement to. . .
The Lily. . .
Sounding of trumpets
Extol the most high
Rallying a crowd
No one should deny
Calls to drill and battle
Resound a time nigh
Echoing surrender
Or a battle cry
No white, just crimson
Adorn the fields
Beds of blood and bone
A battle yields
Within times’ passing
Ghastly signs disappear
Blades of bright green
Awaken thoughts held dear
Slender stalks emerge
Rising from earthy graves
Flaunting scaly bulbs
Pompous as ocean waves
Milky-white trumpets
Surge with praises toward the sky
Spiritual essence of Easter
Extols the most high
©2021 catnipoflife
Sharla Lee Shults
“I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.”
Song of Solomon 2:1
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