The calendar says it’s Spring.

The 71 degrees outside at noon says maybe. The expected temperature of 43 degrees tonight says not yet.

Still, I can’t help but see spring no matter which direction I look.

Driving to my home…


or driving from my home….


or driving to town….


or taking a walk along a path through my woods….


and having a sit on a bench my grandchildren help build years ago.


Spring has its own shades of green and I absolutely love this look.


“Instructions for living a life
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”    Mary Oliver

I love, too, the promises of spring;


“River starts with a drop of rain somewhere in this world
Light years shape this arc of sky and sand, a precious pearl and
You will light a stranger’s life by letting yours unfurled
On and on it goes……
On and on it flies on a new bird’s wing
In a beating heart, the moon light rolls and the gift of spring.”
Mary Chapin Carpenter



“Hard to imagine daffodils
Where I see nothing but white veils
Incessant falling of this snow
In this nowhere, non-landscape
Which has no shadow and no shape,
And holds me fast and holds me deep
And will not cease before I sleep.
Hard to imagine somewhere else
Where life could stir and has a pulse,
And know that somewhere else will be
This very field, changed utterly,
With hosts of daffodils to show
That spring was there under the snow.”         May Sarton




“Spring is humming
Bits of something
A melody the simple part
A song that I once knew by heart
Juniper, wild indigo
Foxglove, lupine, Queen Ann’s lace
Will be coming any day
The restlessness
The quickening
The almost but
Not yet.”     Carrie Newcomer



“The violets in the mountain have broken the rocks”. Tennessee Williams.



What in your life is calling you,
When all the noise is silenced,
The meetings adjourned…
The lists laid aside,
And the Wild Iris blooms
By itself
In the dark forest…
What still pulls on your soul?”      Rumi

All this to say I have declared Spring has sprung, and my soul is leaping for joy.  I’m watching the greening of the woods crawl up from the valley, with only about a 100 feet left to reach my home.

“Fair are the meadows, Fairer sill the woodlands,
Robed in the blooming garb of spring;
Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer, Who makes the woeful heart to sing.”    Fairest Lord Jesus

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