365 Days of Earrings

Monday, July 18, 2011

Of Lizards and Lilies

I wore lizard earrings today, with the idea in the back of my head that they are symbols of resilience, with that unique ability to distract predators by dropping their tails, then regrowing a replacement. And they're survivors who've adapted to life in harsh, dry climates or lush tropical ones. These lizards are enameled copper, purchased from a market vendor in Seattle when I was there to visit my brother.

This label on his hospital pillowcase
made me laugh.
We just climbed the Eiffel Tower
5 days ago!
Resilience was what I was aiming for as I headed off to visit my husband John in the hospital. And I found him looking as well as could be expected in a hospital gown, with tubes dangling every which way. He'd gotten up and washed his face, brushed his teeth, and was feeling more like himself, in spite of the blood clots resting in the base of his lungs.

When I got home from the hospital, I googled lizards, and enjoyed reading exerpts from a book by Daniel A. Greenberg that I found posted online. To the Egyptians and Greeks, lizards symbolized hopefulness and wisdom. The Romans revered lizards as symbols of rebirth. So I feel justified in choosing lizards today, to signify healing and hope.

I wandered down to the river bank to photograph my lizards dangling from another resilient species, the Turk's-cap Lily, Lilium superbum.

The Clarion River plants wildflowers on our bank each spring when floods deposit soil, seeds, and tubers. Dolly Parton sings that "wildflowers don't care where they grow." I agree, as long as she means they choose their spots for their own reasons, not to please others.

This year's lilies flourish in the trench the river dug at the base of our towering sycamore tree. From our bank, I cannot see any others growing anywhere. I spotted some way upstream, along the shady bank of a spring-fed creek. They care where they grow, but good luck getting them to grow if they didn't choose the spot!

Twenty-five years ago, John and I chose this spot to be our summer home. We've put down roots here. We can't imagine a better place to heal, blessed with the hopefulness and wisdom of the lizard.

1 comment:

M. Kasch said...

Glad to hear that Uncle John's okay! What a pain in the neck. er. . . lung.