The skies are downcast and render wind with a bit of light rain. Everything has turned an intense deep green, accentuated by the strange spring storm light, and the naturalized scillas, muscari, and daffodils have colored sky and sunshine on my green sward. It is as if the earth had captured brighter days and held them, in a promise of when the heaven would answer with its own visage of clear blue firmament and warm golden light.
Each day of sunshine brings out the society of bees, crowding the flowers, especially the crocus. Bird song on those days fills the garden with glad greetings and joyful proclamations that life is good. Springtime weaves those days in and out of the dark swells of threatening thunder and heaviness. As the season moves on the sunny days gain preeminence and the windy days of storm and gray opaque skies recede.
I have traveled thoughout yet another quarter of yet another year, the seasons the same, yet always somehow new to me. I am surprised by life.