NATURE'S PARADE

Azaleas in my yard

As I write (early May) it's festival time in my valley. Every year, in celebration of spring and my home valley's orchard industry, promoters put on an “Apple Blossom Festival” with teen “royalty” and three parades (classic cars, youth-focused entries, and the grander 100-entry state-wide floats and marching bands). Oh yes, also a food festival which takes over the huge, well-groomed courthouse lawn for a couple weeks. (It recovers, thanks to diligent groundskeepers.) The influx of tourist dollars helps the economy. And yes, it is a sort of “whew” that bids goodbye to winter's chill and hello to spring and summer delights.

I smile to see my son continue some family festival traditions from his childhood. One is buying his family the finger-dusting pastry creation that's basically a glob of dough dribbled into hot oil, then sprinkled with powdered sugar. We know it as “funnel cakes”; it's a variation of the Italian chiacchiere-- messy to eat, but who's to quarrel with an annual tradition​?

It's sensory overload—all the classic cars, floats and their waving community “queens,” bands, drill teams, horses, carnival food, plus a real visiting “carnival” at one end of town with its classic array of noisy thriller rides.

Our local event reminds me of the first parade I remember attending, probably around age five, in the early 1950s. My family at that time lived about an hour's drive from the famed Rose Parade in Pasadena. My dad was able to buy reserved bleacher seats, which enabled us “little ones” to really see the parade going by. I have dim memories of my television Western heroes—Roy and Dale Rogers—waving while riding the same beautiful horses used on their then-black-and-white TV Western adventure show.

Yes, parades are exciting and glamorous. But there's a quiet parade I enjoy even more. It happens every spring in my yard when the grass, shrubs and flowers awaken from their winter naps. Color returns—not just green, but red, orange, pink, yellow. I recall this quote by Thomas Merton (1915-1968), an American Trappist monk, mystic, poet, and author:

Let us come alone to the splendor that is all around us, and see the beauty in ordinary things.

Rhododendron in my yard

Those “ordinary things” include nature's floral beauty....plus things like the morning light, a bird singing a greeting to the sunrise, a shared meal, and quiet connections. It's simpler life without the television blaring or fighting rush-hour traffic on the highway.

It's okay to come together as a community and celebrate. Besides my city's festival, another city about 30 miles west celebrates even more. Leavenworth has a spring “Mai fest” with the ribbon-winding pole dance. Its “Oktoberfest,” besides the ooh-and-ah of mountain landscapes turning yellow and red, amps up the Bavarian music with performances of the long alpenhorns. Its “Winter Karneval” with half a million downtown lights marks a German tradition back to the 13^th century.

Community spirit is a good thing. But beyond such celebrations, we should never lose sight of the ability to celebrate heaven's blessings. All around us are good and celebration-worthy gifts: sky, water, plants and trees, friendships and family--generously God-provided.