The Dogwood Are Barking

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"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt." ~Margaret Atwood

As I went about the business of enjoying my weekend, one thing I couldn't stop marveling about were the green buds and delicate flowers popping up all over town. The Dogwood are in wild bloom, trees are just starting to sport their green, and grass growing is in full swing. It's kind of silly that I garner so much pleasure in something that happens year after year. Why do I do that? Why does every spring feel like days over-flowing with miracles? They're just trees, flowers and grass that will have to be mowed! My yard is full of clovers an violets, otherwise known as weeds to the meticulous gardener. To me, though, they are Hope, as I watch dead patches come to life in bursts of soft colour. Winter yields his mighty grip, and all of these sleeping wonders become vibrantly alive.

My heart remembers feeling this way. My mind goes back to dark, hopelessly cold times, where I thought I'd never be warm again, feel beauty again, or remember the promise that no matter how bleak the winter might be, spring IS coming. I am also aware that before long, spring too must yield to the sticky, sweltering heat of summer, her much more blistering passionate sister. Summer will provide a different kind of joy, one that melts like chocolate on hot fingers, but not today. Today a warm breeze with just a hint of chill is blowing around sweet smells of new growing things and it is divine. My senses approve; my soul approves.