Dogwood...Washington DC 3...
The cherry blossoms have vanished giving way to lush greenery...here in Washington DC...souvenirs from cherry candy to cherry scented soaps to tee shirts of all designs are for sale everywhere...depicting the beauty of the pink blossoms which lined the streets...some of the trees were a gift from Japan in 1912...thousands of trees have been planted here in the DC area...
Now the dogwood trees are in full bloom...along with flowers of all kinds...
The Arlington National Cemetery has the dogwood trees dotting the hundreds of acres...mixed with the white gravestones of fallen soldiers...so a brilliant contrast of lush lawns, white stones and white and green dogwood...adds to the somberness of the place...
We traveled to Alexandria by water taxi yesterday, and then rode a trolley up and down King street to see sights of this old town...stopping at Christ Church where George Washington attended...a beautiful brick building...again an old graveyard to the side with evergreen trees, abundant flowers, and a dogwood tree in full bloom...the grave stones dating back to the early 1800’s crookedly scattered here and there..
What beauty amongst the somber again...
The Dogwood Tree
by Anonymous
When Christ was on earth, the dogwood grew
To a towering size with a lovely hue.
Its branches were strong and interwoven
And for Christ's cross its timbers were chosen
Being distressed at the use of the wood
Christ made a promise which still holds good:
"Not ever again shall the dogwood grow
To be large enough for a tree, and so
Slender and twisted it shall always be
With cross-shaped blossoms for all to see.
The petals shall have bloodstains marked brown
And in the blossom's center a thorny crown.
All who see it will think of Me,
Nailed to a cross from a dogwood tree.
Protected and cherished this tree shall be
A reflection to all of My agony."
Dogwood in spring always reminds me of this poem and my mother...first the poem...reminds me of the cross on which my Savior died, his agony...but His resurrection...a praise
Second, my mother, who loved the first blooms of spring...my dad would bring a bouquet home from the woods when he could...
Thank YOU for the memories....Your beauty of spring and reminder of life after the “death” of winter...
Photos later...
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