Stepping out our back door lately has given us a bit of an olfactory treat; the locust trees are in full bloom. Especially when the breeze lays off a bit, a sweet but not overpowering scent fills the air. I stand still for a moment, close my eyes and draw in that light perfume. It seems to collect in the middle of my brain, suspending thought and filling me with calm.

It is a season that passes quickly, this time of locust bloom. Right now, there’s not a stretch of road between Saint Joe and Highland but what you can see the tall lines of white blooms showing along the fringe of the woods. In another week or so, the blooms will have fallen and the green of leaves blend in once again with oak and ash as the flush moves past its prime.

It is not a flush that leaves us in anticipation of the harvest, though. Unlike the bloom of cherry and pear, apple or berry, there is no promise of savory yield to come later. Just those long, leathery pods that drop into woods or yard. Perhaps there are other creatures that feed upon the fruit of the locust.

Even without that benefit, the locust tree still provides its shade. Its roots hold earth while its branches shield the dirt below from the eroding force of falling rain and wind. Its leaves and husks become part of the humus of the woods and forest, feeding other plants and a host of unseen organisms.

It is not always the most pleasant gift that is the greatest gift and in every gift the thing made gives glory to he who has made it.

H. Arnett
5/6/10