We are in the beginnings of Spring. It’s not quite full fledged, but it’s getting there. Clara and I hop in the car sometimes in search of the signs- the assure ourselves that it really is on its way. Little patches of grass are starting to turn from brown to green. The buds on the trees are slowly waking up- waiting to come into their own. The branches are stretching their long arms in the sunlight, extending their fingers after a long winter of bracing and clenching. If we’re lucky we even see a tree or two already in bloom, just a little taste of what’s to come.
We’re ready for it. Our house is in bloom- precluding the bloom outside our windows. Our broken branches have blossomed, my gardenia and hydrangea plants are gracing us with their flourishes, and this time of year I can’t help but stock every room with fresh cut flowers (or any other time of year for that matter- let’s be honest).
The weather hasn’t fully complied yet. As Spring weather seems to do, it’s moody, feeling the growing pains of change. But we get glimpses of the coming summer bliss in which the car windows roll down and I leave the house without a jacket in my worn out rainbow flip flops.
Life is full of promise as only it can be in Spring, and it is good.