We have had a few days with sunshine here in the wintry Mid West. Though the rushing cold of the wind may take your breath away, there is new warmth in the sun. I sat down in my car a few days ago, and just relished the heat I could feel on my back, through the many layers, where the car had been sitting in the sun.
Winter is beautiful. Crystalline ice sculptures, snow that reflects the moonlight and sunlight, even the mist coming off of the Mississippi River through the cracks in the ice. Eagles have gathered in the trees, the cardinals stand out with their scarlet regalia. The two red foxes frequenting the yard stand out. Seeing them wiggle about in the snow, much like a long nose and busy tailed puppy, have been a delight.
Yet, spring beckons. When I think of spring though, it’s not just warmth or green. It starts with a smell. The first time that I smell the smell of earth, thawing under my feet. Then, the yearly contest of who can see the first robin begins. When that little bird appears, bright eyed and rose colored, my entire countenance feels like it’s gotten a vacation. Slowly buds appear, then suddenly overnight it seems that God told them to open. The world will fill back up with green. Early flowers, sweet hyacinths and crocus blossoms dare even the chilliest snows. Orion will take his place lower in my horizon in those warmer clear nights and the Big Dipper will slowly rise. Dreams of tomato plants, zucchini, and green beans start filling my head.
The purple vetch, that somehow even smells purple, is just a little ways away. The leaves will fill out, the river thaw, and the eagles return to their northerly summer homes. Spring will beckon.
No comments:
Post a Comment