A bunch of glads,
certainly highly emblematic of creation,
remote from frills of working blossom with hope of fruit:
slow, durable, placid,
generous, sure of kingly dreams.
The ancient Romans called the primary sword of their foot soldiers a gladius, and a smaller sword was a gladiolus, which was often used by the gladiators. Pliny the illustrious Roman author dubbed the flower with the long sword-shaped leaves gladiolus and the name stuck.
by Anne Bach
Mother’s hands dig deep holes in soft brown earth,
watering in the tender seedlings —
teaching me of the promise of flowers.
She was quiet about her thoughts and beliefs,
but I think she always believed
in the promise of flowers.
When we moved
to the old house on top of the hill,
next to the gladiola field, she was even more quiet.
She planted no flowers there.
But the man who picked the gladiolas
brought her a big bunch in all different colors every week.
I think she still believed in flowers
a year later when we moved
to a rural farm house in New Jersey.
She planted pansies all around the old tree
before the long days
when she took to her bed.
I must have been born from her love of flowers
for I have planted them wherever I have lived
Looking for dark rich soil and a promise of flowers.
My eyes stay open through the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promises. ~Psalm 119:48 ✝
Thank you, Lord Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us! You have captured me with grace and I’m caught in Your infinite embrace!
** Some images via Pinterest