The
grayness of the clouds and the gaiety of the sun were in a day long
battle. The wind couldn't decide whose side it was on. I am in love
with both. Perhaps that is the wind's problem as well. Too much love
for ever changing beauty.
The rain and the melting snow have
teamed up to flood in every little--or wide--expanse that they can find.
The brown shag of the river birch is
no doubt delighted, and I'm sure the pussy willow by the "real" pond is
dancing in the wind as well. Some of its red buds are already exploding
into silver blooms. It never waits for spring. Impatience is a
virtue.
The ground itself is still rock hard, frozen--dare I say,
Greenbayish. Though the weather folks are predicting sixty degrees
tomorrow, I don't think it will be enough to soften the soil and
befuddle my bulbs and flowers into visions of spring. And the cold is
coming back! I hope it brings its white blanket with it. I am always
ready for a snowwalk, and I have not yet experienced this year the
majesty of a moonlight sonata in the back meadow of Iten's Acres. Yes,
believe it or not, I have music in my soul. And standing under stars
and moon in the brightness of a snowy field makes my heart sing--even in
times of absolute silence and windless stillness. I can hear His
creation sing. Maybe it's my gardening angels?
One miracle. As the
rains fell and the temperatures rose and the snow melted, a metallic
pink buttercup spread its petals and nodded to the sunshine. Hiding all
this time, warm with snow, waiting for another chance to beautify its
world. And thankfully, it's my world too. Beauty by surprise is a
marvelous joy. I pray I am caught off guard another million times.
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