The Locust Bloom

Looking down the old dirt road at what used to be, I see furrowed rows where now mesquite trees have once again claimed their place. There are small drifts of sand, piled in swirls around fence posts, resembling what the wind must look like as it curves and turns around what it owns. They are made from the spring wind and unrelenting lack of rainfall as mother nature blows her breath. Tufts of dried grass can be seen bowing to the wind, brown and blending in with the elements, it’s master. The skies are clear, a magnificent blue, much like clear ocean water contrasting the irony of nature. What is known from what appears as desolate at times, this sandy place is home. It is an acquired taste to find the beauty in often barren times, but when the elements come together, it is quite beautiful. One accruing years of age can remember what our city used to be, what it held and what memories were made, the amenities it offered and the times the younger generation can only imagine. They will only learn what we already know through our telling the story, because time is moving too fast for them to stop and smell the locust blooms. Age in itself has its ways of causing visions of the past to appear. It is unforgiving, with a clock that suddenly begins to tick a little faster with every passing day. Some days hurry by with just a glimpse of sunshine before the dark falls again. The lonely locust trees are blooming. The ones that I long to smell each spring, the very ones I took my son to smell today, the very ones I smelled yesteryear. Sadly, their presence is becoming less and less as through the years they have also aged and began to fall by the wayside. Adding to the elements, consider the unexpected burst of cold that folds the newly budded blossom, causing them to wither and fall. Against natures odds, the blossoms are few and studded with thorns, yet their fragrance is astounding as they set there waiting to be noticed as part of the beauty of a barren landscape. Lest we forget we are still alive, take time to smell the locust blooms. For just a few short days from now, mother nature will claim their petals, making us wait for another revolution around the sun for their return.

Copyright (Charles D. Grant)