This was a post that I wrote almost a year ago.
Because it still makes my heart beat faster, I thought I would tweak it a bit, and share it with you again.
Here’s to a early spring wishes for everyone.
“Come here,” she whispered… her soft voice carried over the snow banks.
“Feel the sun warm your skin, listen to the bird’s song. Loosen your winter jacket, take off that sweater. Unwind that scarf. I have something to say to you, and it’s important.”
“I want you to dance among the wet moss in the lawn.
Watch the fir cones fall onto your truck with the resounding plunk of a musical note.
Know that you will be cleaning up the lawn… again.”
“Did you forget to lime?”
“Too bad,” she coo’s…
”it’s going to rain, and the grass will grow, you will be lamenting not having seeded
when you could.”
“But don’t worry,” she says, “you will too busy counting new green leaves to feel bad about it.”
“Poking the dark earth to see the tiny sprouts of green, and listening to the bird song early in the
morning as the sun wakes up before the alarm.”
“You will be gazing on the setting sun, as it glows in the west… bathing clouds in pearly dust.”
Her trilling laughter echoes through the neighbourhood, among the garden tools. rakes, and piles of pruned branches waiting to be picked up.
It’s picked up by the birds, and carried by the Ravens far into the mountains where the deer have gone.
Spring whispers her promise to us not caring what tomorrow brings.
She knows that fickle as she is, it’s up to her.
No matter if we complain of snow, just days before her arrival, or turn our faces towards the ever increasing warmth of the sun, it’s on her agenda.
And so we dance to her tune, turn our ears toward the bird song, listen for the sound of buds swelling, sap rising, the rustle of ground thawing, knowing that spring will keep her promises, but on her own time.
Come soon spring.