The Cover Section Editor: M. Therese Southgate,
MD, Senior Contributing Editor.
In northern climes spring comes in Christmas cache pots. Living rooms,
studies, schoolrooms, sickrooms, offices—windowsills everywhere burst
with color: reds, yellows, blues, purples, mauves; amaryllis, tulips, hyacinth,
jonquils, daffodils. Natural spring takes a little longer, but the delay only
intensifies the longing. The season is poignant because it is so long-awaited
and so quickly gone, yet it is perhaps this very brevity that makes it so
desired. Its beauty is like Eden, or grace, or a gift of love: it is ours
to enjoy, but not to possess. We may desire it, ardently, but we cannot command
it. It is its own season and—except for cache pots—spring comes
when it will. Though repeated every year, it is a phenomenon that never grows
old, its surprise never dulled. Each is as startling as though it were the
first, yet as familiar as though it had been and would be forever.
Southgate MT. Still Life, Tulips. JAMA. 2003;289(4):392. doi:10.1001/jama.289.4.392
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