Spring, a time of birds and bees, blossoms and buds, and a time of renewal as the old brown coat of winter is replaced by nature's green windbreaker. It is a time when I start thinking of planting, setting out flowers for the summer, a few tomato and pepper plants, and this year perhaps even a small tree or two - dogwood, I think.
Famed Irish poet and playwright, George Bernard Shaw, was also a man who dug some holes in his time to plant a few trees. In 1936, on his eightieth birthday he planted a mulberry tree at his home in England, an event that would have most likely been lost to history except that, after his death, the spade that he used to dig the hole for the mulberry tree somehow made its way into the hands of American novelist (and poet) Ray Bradbury. Bradbury wrote a short poem (unpublished) about the spade.
Here is Ray Bradbury's brief ode to a digging instrument once used by George Bernard Shaw.
GBS and the Spade
by Ray Bradbury
I hold the dear spade in my hands,
Its vibrant lightnings strike and move along my arms,
The ghost of Shaw climbs up through me
I feel a fiery brambling of chin
I feel my spine
Stand straight as if a lightning bolt had struck
His old voice whispers in my ear, dear boy Find Troy, go on, dig deep,
find Troy, find Troy!