In the hush and glory of this week’s snow, I worry about the boxwoods. Their burdened boughs bend to extremes. De-formed, the bushes no longer resemble themselves. Wretched and wrecked, they need some relief, and soon. And yet – each moment, each hour – they bear this extraordinary weight. They bend as they wait for sun and for rain. The green boughs of the boxwoods hold. …
January 8, 2022
by jenniferpuryear