Each Spring I enjoy seeing the Eastern Redbud trees blooming. They produce many thousands of pinkish-purple flowers along their stems. Redbuds seem to prefer to grow at the edges of the woods, we see hundreds of them along the interstate where the road cuts through the trees. I always wanted one in our yard, so about three years ago Marilyn bought me one as a surprise gift. It was less than three feet tall and quite frankly did not look like much of a tree.

“I think this would be a good spot for it,” Marilyn said, pointing to a spot about ten feet from our shed. So we started digging, we dug a hole big enough for a large tree, then carefully placed the little Redbud in the hole. We watered it, we mulched it, we stood back and admired our work. It wasn’t very impressive but it was our Redbud. “Do you think it will bloom this year?” asked Marilyn.

“No, but hopefully next year,” I answered. The tree grew quite a bit that summer. I was sure that it would bloom the next Spring. The next Spring came and went, without a bloom. We were disappointed. “Next year will be the year,” we kept telling ourselves.

Well, we were disappointed again. The tree was then about seven feet tall but no blooms that Spring either. “Are you sure this is really a Redbud?” she would sometimes ask. I was beginning to wonder myself.

Now our little Redbud tree is at least eight feet tall and it has dozens of the pinkish-purple flowers that we have been waiting for. “It’s blooming,” Marilyn exclaimed as we were walking through the yard a few days ago. Yes, it’s finally blooming. Our wait was over, we stood there a few minutes just looking at the flowers. They were beautiful. The little tree that we put in the big hole was blooming.

Hopefully next year it will have thousands of blooms, not just dozens. I think it will, but that Redbud has proved me wrong before. But I think it will.