Ferns Unfurling: Essay with Photography
by Bethany Peck
FERNS UNFURLING
Each year, the forest floor has a story to tell. It begins early, before the trees are filled, so the
sunshine can reach the fallow places. All winter, through those dark cold months, something is
happening underground. And then it begins, life breaks ground, reaching for oxygen, and the
green begins to appear.
It’s a renaissance - a rebirth of the once dead earth. Ferns unfurling and ephemerals emerging.
Life broke me years ago - my hopes and dreams crashed. The silence and the slowness drove
me to the woods, where I could commune with God. No one but the Creator to see my tears, no
one but my ever-present Friend to enjoy my childlike delight in the wildflowers.
Year after year, of those dreams being trampled deeper, I returned to this haven. And I’ve found
there is certainty in spring. The ferns will re-emerge, like trumpets ready to announce a wedding
party. The trout lilies will open their delicate petals as the bridesmaids looking demurely
beautiful, while trillium, radiantly white, waits like a trusting bride for her groom. And then there
are the endless bluebells, bouquets of stunning simplicity adorning the glorious scene.
The beauty and the peace have healed my heart. I’ve been repaired, I just had to wait through
the winter. New dreams - like the bluebells - have been birthed from the wreckage. Life can find
a way of growing up out of decay.
My heart grows in anticipation now each year for the ferns - these wonders that fill me with joy.
And I keep waiting for that wedding feast one day. This is hope. Year after year, I can trust in
this new life - in this vision for a grand celebration one day, when our true new life begins. And I
believe there will be lots of flowers.