Spring is right outside my window. She came so quickly this year, and I am still marvelling at her. I hope every year it will suprise me. There are these tender, tiny, precious buds of green on all the emaciated branches, and suddenly the sky seems more blue too. The sun has changed too. It's more proud, less uncertain. It's got generous rays and warms the ground and little birds are chirping, hopping, and wobbling about beneath freshly burgeoning oak trees. I can't help but be happy. I am thrilled to walk outside today, and I have to hold back a gigantic laugh. What a relief that things change-- that life dies so it can come back a more pure, a more beautiful life than the year before. I am not sure if spring does get prettier, but I think I appreciate her more every time I meet her again.
There is a spring time in my heart I am hoping for. In winter I am cozy, warm and safe inside of things familiar. Steadfast things, and predictability. Christmas comes, and its nearly the same as the one before. Flannel pajamas, warm sheets, good cups of coffee tucked inside of a home. And then suddenly its spring, and things are new and fresh and enormously spontaneous. I have no idea what to expect of the future, when to expect things to bloom, when to anticipate a full garden of hope and love and friends. But it's marvelous, really, to watch the process. To watch the uncertainty, the viperish arms of trees suddenly erupt in tiny whispers of green hope. And that same for me, something smells like spring time in my heart, and there is a glow to this whole season that I hope I relish.