Fearsome contrasts

This is the beautiful rhododendron that grows in our front yard. If it looks a little fuzzy, that's because I took the photo last night at dusk when the light was beginning to fade. Still, I loved the glow that the blossoms seemed to emit.

In the twenty years we've lived here, these flowers have always opened for Mother's Day. The only year that proved to be an exception was last year, when just about everything seemed to be a bit late. As if to compensate, everything in this year's garden has been early.

Considering all that's been on the news this week -- the conflagration in Fort McMurray -- this bush with its glorious blossoms seems like a full-blown miracle. Here, the world comes in colours -- lush greens and vibrant flowers. There, it's become a world of ash -- stark tones of black and white, the aftermath of hell.

But back to those rhodos. Being the lazy gardener that I am, my slogan is pretty much, "If it comes up on its own, I am happy." Thus, my satisfaction at daffodils and tulips, those stalwarts whose bulbs do all the work in early spring. And now, the lupins and daisies are opening, with the lilies sure to follow them in turn.

If I can be called the lazy gardener, my friend Jane would be my polar opposite. She knew more than anyone I've ever met about flower gardening. Vagaries of weather, soil conditions, what to grow in shade or sun, rain or drought -- she knew it all. Today marks the day that she arrived on the planet and should have been a day when she would be here to glory in the blossoms of the season. Yet again, a candle is alight on my kitchen counter, though my greatest remembrances of her today are outdoors in the midst of all that life and colour. In addition, I am doing something I'm sure she'd approve: making a donation to the Red Cross and its relief fund to help the residents of Fort McMurray