“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” Nope. Not Christmas. In my world, spring is the most wonderful time of the year. Everything is new in the spring. The whole world is like a box of crayons, ready to be opened. The colors ready to share with everyone.
My frozen ground is still very wet. The palette is varying shades of brown and gray. If I look closely, I see short red sprouts where my peonies will bloom in May. Tender green stalks grow quicker every day – the ones where my husband planted tulip bulbs and where I planted garlic bulbs. My woody herbs are waking up and trying to remember their jobs – providing oregano, lavender, thyme and rosemary.
We filled the birdfeeders, and the finches, doves, woodpeckers and chickadees are queuing up on the storm gutter and the power line. (Sometimes 12 pegs on two feeders isn’t enough to go around.) And we can see the birds more clearly after scrubbing a few months of winter crud off the windows earlier this week.
The sky is gray today. My car is filthy. And the forecast is iffy. But the dirt is calling me. The dozens of packets of seeds I bought for my garden are calling me. But spring is here now. The calls are louder, and the promises of life are just around the corner.