Spring rises from flattened earth in green rosettes of energy pushing stems of blossoms toward the light.
Every storm pushes ahead of itself a wind that tells you its name. It whistles through the branches and moans in the treetops.
I took a couple of quick walks along the trail and into the woods between errands on the first warm and inviting days. At first it was all practical, looking for the first spring ephemerals, but as always the sensory experience of nature edges away the practicality and loosens my creative senses. I found only one flower not quite opened the first visit to all my favorite places for these first flowers, but a week later everything had opened up, shades of green and yellow, flowers, the sound of running water and spring had been unleashed.
So overwhelmed with looking and listening and walking, scenting mud and moss and a mixture of last year’s detritus and this year’s fresh beginnings, and feeling the wind on my face and tugging on my hair and the water on my feet that I couldn’t form a coherent group of words.
I only came up with two and gave myself a few days to let them simmer to see if anything more would develop. Not really, but I loved them and wanted to share the experience.
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