Monday, March 23, 2009


It arrived last week.

First the crocus pushed its lone head out of the packed earth in my front garden and stood there, white and trembling. It cast no shadow. It kept its petals tightly closed, as if huddling against the cold. It should have waited. A few days later a watery ray of sunlight lit up a primrose, pink with excitement at being the first to bloom. The forsythia, not to be outdone, forced its flowers open and gold ran up and down the branches while violets, admirative, nodded tiny heads.

The sun finally gathered its strength and sent us a balmy week, which encouraged the grass to new heights and stirred the birds to song. Auguste has been chasing his nemesis - the wren - every morning at dawn as he runs out to pee...The wren teases him mercilessly, hopping just out of reach.

It's spring, and it means that every sunny day is torture to be inside, because spring is so fragile and the weather can slide back to winter at a whim. Teeshirts bunch beneath sweaters, coats hesitate on shoulders, and shorts are shaken out and inspected for moth holes.

And every cloud is a curse while blue skies promise - spring is here, and it will stay.


Lyn Cash said...

you are truly a poet, kiddo - with camera and without.

(Leave honey on your skin. Sew lavender in your pillow, and learn the art of healing.) <~ still one of the prettiest lines ever penned


Ordinary Girl said...

Very nice images of Spring.

John Nez said...

Well I just wished that Sring would actually arrive... and then really STAY! So far it remains c-c-c-cold and unrelenting winter.

If we have another one of those 6 week summers that won't start till mid July I'm gonna move!

In fact I was thinking how inconceiveable it seems that there should ever be leaves on the trees or such a thing as warmth or walking barefoot. Impossible! Can't be done!