Spring!

 

Spring officially arrived yesterday, and the neighborhood flora is in full agreement.

This is one of my favorite weeks of the year to go out walking every day. It was rainy earlier this week; the only sign of the sun a few lighter gray spots in the cloud-covered sky. The gray trees against the gray sky looked as if they were still hunkered down for the count. Then, right on cue, the sun came out, and it was clear to see that the plants have made good use of the rain. (March showers bring April flowers?  No, that's not quite right...) 

As I walk, I watch to see what's changed overnight. If you squint, you can see where a tree, yesterday wearing only its winter brown-gray bark, has begun to sprout a halo of the most delicate spring green.

The bush in the attached picture, one of my spring favorites, still looked to be winter-asleep as I approached yesterday. But then, as I walked by, I caught a whiff of intense fragrance; it smelled as though someone had unstoppered a bottle of high-end perfume. I stopped to look more closely, and sure enough, among the remnants of last year's leaves, a few delicate flowers have opened.

The sky is blue, the birds are singing. The robins who decided to hang around all winter have let their feathers relax - no longer do they need to stay still and puffed up to preserve warmth and energy. 

The grass is starting to grow, it's almost time to get out and play in the dirt. (I stop to send some mental sympathy hugs to my friends to the north. They still have a few weeks of winter to get through, and memory tells me it can feel like winter is digging in its heels as it gets dragged out the door, wanting to hang around as long as possible.)

I knew, during those dark days in February, that this would happen. I've seen a few turns of the planet around the sun, and spring has come without fail. Despite the voice of experience in my head, there's always a part of me that doesn't believe it'll happen again. I guess its my spirit's way of hedging its bets; not counting the chickens until they hatch - that sort of thing.

This year, spring brings poignancy - I welcome its arrival with an almost too-intense awareness of life's fragility. Because of the virus, too many people are not here to welcome it this year. *big sigh*

But COVID-19 is on the run, and I pray it stays that way. I have gotten the first of my shots, as have most of my friends. The vaccine logjam is loosening, and soon, all who want to take what protection science can offer against the virus will be able to do so. I'm not ready to go anywhere crowded just yet, but soon will be free to gather with friends for coffee or dinner. New life, and the hope it brings along in its wake, is stirring in my soul, mirroring the world out my window.

Soon.