The world is exploding in color and vibrancy and I cannot possibly keep up. I'm three or four blogs behind, with news and muse vying for attention, pushed to the back burner to stew some more because the immediacy of Spring will not, cannot wait. The birds have my attention these days (you'd think I've never before seen the siren red of a cardinal) but lore says a pair of them brings love into your life. Along with rock doves, black-capped chickadees, bluejays, and mockingbirds, the cardinals' songs serenade and woo us. Rarer stil the pair of shy mallards down the creek and the brief reign of the wisteria, though no sign of the racoon or egret or hawk from last year.
Spring is clarifying: The pollen and dust washed away by the rains; the newly clothed trees rocked by March winds; the world once again able to breathe with new-leaf oxygen. In these moments, the fog lifts from a depressed stupor, my eyes come into focus, and I live in the urgent now. Look to the ant, to the damselfly, the rabbit, the moon.
The world is exploding in color and vibrancy and I cannot possibly keep up. I'm three or four blogs behind, with news and muse vying for attention, pushed to the back burner to stew some more because the immediacy of Spring will not, cannot wait. The birds have my attention these days (you'd think I've never before seen the siren red of a cardinal) but lore says a pair of them brings love into your life. Along with rock doves, black-capped chickadees, bluejays, and mockingbirds, the cardinals' songs serenade and woo us. Rarer stil the pair of shy mallards down the creek and the brief reign of the wisteria, though no sign of the racoon or egret or hawk from last year.
Spring is clarifying: The pollen and dust washed away by the rains; the newly clothed trees rocked by March winds; the world once again able to breathe with new-leaf oxygen. In these moments, the fog lifts from a depressed stupor, my eyes come into focus, and I live in the urgent now. Look to the ant, to the damselfly, the rabbit, the moon. 
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1 comment:
Ah--finally, Spring has sprung and so has Karen! A gorgeous offering but what a tease--I had packed up the winter gear, potted all sorts of blooming things, put on sandles and hoisted the patio umbrella. The forecast from now till Easter Sunday? Below freezing every night! So my withered plants are receiving triage in the kitchen, my closet is littered with shoes for all seasons, and I'm sleeping under the comfortor again. Sigh. I'll sip your spring till Sunday.
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