Spring has exploded. It started out timidly, like a child sticking a toe in the water before diving in. There was just a haze of green over the trees, a few blooms on the southeast side of the house, a hint of warmth in the air. Then, suddenly, violets carpet the yard, spring peepers serenade the evening, and there is an extravagance of daffodils. The bluebells and trout lilies carpet the hillsides and the bloodroot unfurls its leaves in the shady woods. The birds work nonstop, courting and building nests, and there is the intoxicating scent of newly mown grass.
The full moon was last week, a moon bright enough to lure the adventurous outdoors to walk in its light. It, too, seems to enjoy the spring weather and only reluctantly hides its face long after sunrise.
Easter was a perfect spring day, starting with a glorious sunrise and ending with gentle breezes and a sky filled with stars. What more could you ask to celebrate the empty grave?
There are things I will miss about winter – long evenings beside a fire with a good book, lying under warm blankets listening to the wind whip around the eaves, snuggling with a dog on the couch while snowflakes swirl, and early morning walks in a glittering fairy land. But spring brings a freshness that is a renewal of life. It means open windows, and waking up in the mornings to fresh breezes and birdsong.
My mom and I have had a forty year love affair with the wildflowers that bloom along the footpaths and in the deep woods. I have my high school biology teacher, Fay Carothers, to thank for countless happy hours spent rambling and scrambling over every inch of our one hundred acres to find hidden pockets of beauty. It is a spring time tradition with us to view the bluebells that spill down the bluff and the trout lilies that cover the banks of the branch between us and the neighboring farm. One of my favorite memories is the year of the bloodroot, when the hillside appeared to be covered with snow.
If I were in charge, there would be more of spring. More daffodils, more spring breezes, more lilacs. Even now the daffodils are fading. There will be other good things to come. The dogwoods are just beginning to show their color and the tulips are nodding in the breezes. From my window I can see tiny green snowballs on my snowball bush. The rambling rose, which has been on this farm longer than I can remember, is putting out tiny buds. But the daffodils are my favorite – like the essence of sunshine, captured in a flower. I wish I could catch a moment in time and hold it back for a few more weeks. There are just never enough daffodils.
The full moon was last week, a moon bright enough to lure the adventurous outdoors to walk in its light. It, too, seems to enjoy the spring weather and only reluctantly hides its face long after sunrise.
Easter was a perfect spring day, starting with a glorious sunrise and ending with gentle breezes and a sky filled with stars. What more could you ask to celebrate the empty grave?
There are things I will miss about winter – long evenings beside a fire with a good book, lying under warm blankets listening to the wind whip around the eaves, snuggling with a dog on the couch while snowflakes swirl, and early morning walks in a glittering fairy land. But spring brings a freshness that is a renewal of life. It means open windows, and waking up in the mornings to fresh breezes and birdsong.
My mom and I have had a forty year love affair with the wildflowers that bloom along the footpaths and in the deep woods. I have my high school biology teacher, Fay Carothers, to thank for countless happy hours spent rambling and scrambling over every inch of our one hundred acres to find hidden pockets of beauty. It is a spring time tradition with us to view the bluebells that spill down the bluff and the trout lilies that cover the banks of the branch between us and the neighboring farm. One of my favorite memories is the year of the bloodroot, when the hillside appeared to be covered with snow.
If I were in charge, there would be more of spring. More daffodils, more spring breezes, more lilacs. Even now the daffodils are fading. There will be other good things to come. The dogwoods are just beginning to show their color and the tulips are nodding in the breezes. From my window I can see tiny green snowballs on my snowball bush. The rambling rose, which has been on this farm longer than I can remember, is putting out tiny buds. But the daffodils are my favorite – like the essence of sunshine, captured in a flower. I wish I could catch a moment in time and hold it back for a few more weeks. There are just never enough daffodils.
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