Snow on the Dogwoods

Here in the Sierra Foothills, as everywhere, we too look forward to the emergence of spring and the release from winter.  People look for signs, some hopeful indication, for the coming of grace.  One sign around here of the anticipation of spring’s arrival is captured in the saying, “You won’t see spring until you’ve seen snow on the dogwood.”

You may never see the snow on the Dogwoods yourself, but almost certainly at some point between the winter and the spring, snow will have descended upon the newly emerged Dogwood blossoms somewhere in the Sierra Foothills [ see this later post for an update - we did have snow on the Dogwoods ].  Whether or not one personally witnesses this occurrence, the saying itself provides an image and an event upon which to focus the hope for spring, which like warm sunlight actually causes a quiet emergence within one’s own heart of grace and renewal.  And before you know it, before the hope grows tired, spring suddenly emerges, whether or not you’ve actually seen the snow on the Dogwood!

Kenneth Rexroth, in his poem “Snow,” captures a moment in spring’s rough birth in the form of a frigid early spring night camping in the mountains, watching events, looking for signs, receiving what is given without judgment.

“The Clouds are rushing across the
Sky and through them is tumbling
The thin waning moon…

In the morning the
Pine boughs are sagging with snow,
And the dogwood blossoms are
Frozen, and the tender young
Purple and citron oak leaves.”
-from Kenneth Rexroth’s poem, Snow

The repetition of the phrase “snow on the dogwoods” occurs without fail, every year as the season moves inscrutably through the invisible and amorphous border between the cold winter and the vital warming days of spring. The phrase has become something like the act of breaking the seal which winter has placed upon the gift of spring itself.

It would seem that in Cherokee lore there were “little people” who dwelt in the forest.  Among them were the Dogwood People, “who are good and take care of people.” The Cherokee saw these Little People as tricksters of a sort, who’s purpose was to “play tricks on you so you will laugh and keep young in your heart.” But primarily, the Dogwood People, they say, believed in doing good for others without thought of personal gain, out of the goodness of one’s heart.

The wood of the Dogwood is extremely tough and resilient and was used for weaving shuttles and more recently for golf club heads.  The bark has medicinal properties, some examples of which are listed in this article, where it says, “Native Americans from the Virginia area would chew on the sticks and this would keep their teeth white.”  Another article reports, “An 1830 herbal reported that the Native Americans and captive Africans in Virginia were remarkable for the whiteness of their teeth, and attributed it to the use of Dogwood chewing sticks. “  The berries are said to be a good tonic for liver and kidneys.  A lengthier description of it’s uses is found in a Sierra Club article, quoted in part below.

“Native Americans had many uses for the dogwood, both practical and medicinal. They made arrow shafts and daggers from the tough wood, used the blossoming of the dogwood tree as a sign to plant corn, and produced a bitter, antipyretic (fever reducing) drink from the bark.  The medicinal uses of the dogwood were thus imparted to the early pioneers as a treatment for fevers. During the Civil War, access to ports was curtailed so that the bark of the Peruvian cinchona tree could not be imported for the quinine needed to treat malaria.  Dogwood bark was used in its stead and found to be nearly as effective.  The “King’s American Pharmacy” of 1898 listed dogwood bark as “tonic, astringent, and slightly stimulant” for use with “periodical fevers, typhoid fevers, etc.” and for “general exhaustion.”"

Of the many wonderful qualities of the Dogwood, the most appealing to me is it’s rugged strength coexisting with the delicate beauty of it’s white or pink blossoms; that it’s bold enough to bloom through the snow, through a “Dogwood Winter“, and thereby provide inspiration and by virtue of a tangible image, and a sturdy, textural tree trunk that you can grasp with your hand on a cold spring morning, and realize that this living treasure has roughed the long winter with you and comes forth flowering boldly into the cool early spring days, blazing a trail of irrepressible vitality.

There’s a myth, which although it can’t be factually true because the Dogwood was not native to Palestine, still gives a very vivid image of the brilliant strength and inspirational qualities of the Dogwood.  I’ll quote it here from the same article previously referenced.

“According to the old stories, … it was said that wood from the Dogwood tree was selected to fashion the cross. This distressed and saddened the Dogwood tree so much that Jesus took pity on the tree, and promised that Dogwood trees will never again grow large enough to use the wood for a cross. It will be twisted and bent. The four petals of the flowers will form the shape of a cross, with two long petals and two short ones. In the center of each petal edge, a rusty nail mark will be cut, the bracts in the center will resemble a crown of thorns, [producing] blood-red berries.”

Not meant to be morbid, the story is presented here because we all go through many trials and challenges as life trains us to rise above what we thought we were into the ever greater being that one truly is. The Dogwood seems to be telling us, in the spirit of the Little Dogwood People, out of the goodness of it’s firm and solid heart, that we are greater than any winter, and more beautiful even than we ourselves may know.

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For interest, there are a number of folks on this forum attempting to determine the origin of the name Dogwood. It’s a bit of an entertaining exercise.