You have to look closely, gently jostle aside a few leaves. It is happening.
Energy, tense and coiled.
The discarded bottles and scraps of plastic stand out discordantly in the fawny beiges of late winter. But it is happening, cell by cell, buds expanding, their waxy protective scales ready to fold back and reveal … spring.
|Mountain laurel in early March|
Sedums wear intense colors. Mosses are greener, succulents getting plumper by the day. Moss phlox is becoming itself again. Beneath last year’s dried and tired hydrangea clusters, buds are evident on opposite sides of stems.
Spring keeps us on edge. Waiting, watching.
It makes us all a little more alive. It makes us want to prepare to celebrate … life.
It helps us, a little, to forgive death.