The Chaos of Spring

By Cynthia Wands

I was able to see several theater pieces by LAFPI members this winter/spring; and it was wonderful to see and hear such incredible voices in our community. I’m grateful to have seen “Four Women in Red” by Laura Shamas; “Wound Care” by Jennie Webb; “Willing Suspension of Disbelief” by Katherine James, and “Curly Wings” by Sarah Garic. Kudos to the EST/LA Winterfest 2025 and the Victory Theatre for bringing the spotlight to these playwrights. I so appreciate watching live theater again, and witnessing the magic space that theater creates.

I especially needed the distraction away from the our current news culture. Because it seems that the planet has run mad. Politically, morally, seasonally, financially – mad.

I’ve needed an escape, and so I’ve been spending time in the garden, and the roses are very late this year. Usually, in the first week in April, most of my roses have bloomed at least once, and they would have branched out with lovely baby buds. But this year, I only have one rose that has opened up, the Redcoat rose. The weather was dry, and hot, then cold, a bit wet, then windy, and finally topped off with a couple of mild earthquake shakers. I mean, what could possibly flower amidst all this damn chaos. Hence the idea of oubaitori: the idea that people, like flowers, bloom in their own time and in their individual ways. (I myself am a late bloomer.)

The Redcoat rose, April 11, 2025

The Redcoat is one of my oldest David Austin roses and, like a racehorse, she has a genetic lineage that is worth a giggle: she’s crossbred from the roses Seedling and Golden Showers. I love her light scent of cold cream, apples and fledgling hopes. (That last bit is my description; the rose catalogues say she’s “slightly musky”. What do they know – she’s not the least bit “musky”.) And she’s not a showboat rose, hasn’t won any of the awards or acclaim that the more extroverted roses in the David Austin catalogue have won – but here she is. She persevered. She found her own individual time to bloom.

But back to spring. New seeds, new flowers, a fresh start. But what the hell. The planet is on fire this week (the highlands in SCOTLAND are witnessing catastrophic fires right now). There were hundreds of tornadoes in the Midwest, and now more catastrophic floods in the Southeast, and Spain has recorded its wetest season ever with massive floods in March.

Fires in Scotland, April 12, 2025

Floods in Spain, March 2025

And there’s our current political environment, which I can’t begin to write about. So this spring, I’m witnessing the chaos that we’re living in, and trying to manage my expectations.

A friend recently shared a writing exercise that I found – challenging.

Part one: you write down all your Milestones. Events that happened in your life that were a significant point in your development. Write all of them.

Part two: edit down all your milestones to just twenty (20) significant events.

Part three: winnow down all your milestones to just ten (10). And then to just five (5).

So you’re left with the five most important milestones in your life, thus far. It’s an interesting look at what has bloomed and when. I encourage you to take a look at it.