Fruitful

Looking south of Utah Lake, near Lincoln Beach Park, grows this young orchard that slopes up into the Lake Mountains and foothills. I couldn’t get close enough to see what kind of trees. They are likely peach or apple. Rows and rows of anticipated fruitfulness. Close to 1,000 trees planted on this slope.

Utah is dry. We are high desert where I live, about 4,500 feet above sea level. These trees will depend on irrigation. At this time of year as Winter shifts to Spring, the background hills are quite barren. They will green some, but do retain an overall brownness throughout the year. I’m imagining the blossoms on these trees that will come in the next few weeks, the visual delight of seeing tens of thousands of pink and white blossoms, adding tremendous color and scent and buzzing of bees and other pollinators.

So, yes, from that same long drive of last week, with such need to feel inner and to feel quiet, also comes a fruitfulness. And an anticipation of flowering. And an awareness of thirst and need for irrigation. And an appreciation of trees growing together.

It’s not just the young orchard, as it faces Utah Lake and northern view of Wasatch Mountains. It’s all of us, isn’t it, that seek to be fruitful in our seasons. Ourselves, and with others, and for these times in which we live.

Fruitful.

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