Himalayan Poppies
There was a man named Pierre S. du Pont who lived several decades ago in the hills of Pennsylvania. He was quite wealthy and upon his death he donated hundreds of acres of land for the public to visit his gardens. Over the last 70 years, more and more of these acres have been cultivated and manicured into something quite lovely. We visited there yesterday. Many of you especially enjoyed the Children’s Garden inside the extensive conservatory, splashing in water, running along the thin paths, and pretending you were witches near the fog covered well.
The purple and deep blue hydrangea hanging baskets were one of my favorites, along with the treehouse with the diamond window panes, the orchid room with orchids from all over the world, tulips that were blooming despite the lingering chill of winter, and the garden bathrooms that were hidden behind walls of ferns. The moment I have been thinking about the most, though, is when I saw a blue poppy.
I continually found myself at the back of the group. You and your cousins, along with your dad and great uncle, are not as fond of walking slow as I am. I had stayed back to admire the suspended hydrangeas again when I rounded the path to upright poppies, towering over the ground around it, with the most remarkable color of petals; they were tissue-paper-thin with blue and riches of purple bursting from the bottom on the back. A sign nearby said, “Do not block patrons from enjoying the flowers with your photography.” I admit, in that moment, I assumed it was a sign that must’ve been throughout the gardens, but it is wasn’t. People were kneeling, bending, and laying on the walkway to capture a moment of these flowers. The sign was meant for them alone.
My aunt met me. She had been receiving emails for weeks about these blue wonders and as it turned out, they are extremely rare. Their only native land is in the meadows of the Himalayas. Though they have been brought to other areas to grow, they are a persnickety flower from the rhododendron family and are not easy to blossom, yet here they were, several of them.
The flower was beautiful and I would have enjoyed it without knowing how rare it was to see, but something about knowing its history created profound gratitude. It confirmed the truth that knowledge and learning is so important, that both of those things can bring us closer to God, which is the whole point of me sharing this story with you.
I hope we all become life-long learners. Let’s read together and find awe together and share what we learn with others.
We never know when it will grant us wonder and gratitude…
…but I hope it’s often for us all.