Spring will be good

Spring will be so good this year, breaking open the heavy pall of winter that weighs its grey cold on the landscape, on the soul.  It will call awake the greens from their hidden palette, and the daffodil flushes of gold that mimic and foreshadow the warm waters of sun.  It will shake and awaken the somnolence of roots, of buds, of earth that have been stilled by the chilled blanket of winter.  It will call awake the senses, shut up in scarves and hats and houses, and move us all from dormancy to vibrancy, thrilling with the new surge of life. 

The crocuses are here already, but this year they are the purple funeral robes of winter not the first flush of spring.  The delicate blossom that usually adorns our tree out front in early March is weeks late.  There have been sunny days, there are buds beginning to break on the flowering currant, there are daffodil leaves poking tall through the hard soil, there is light filling the later afternoon corners.  But I won’t be fooled.  Spring isn't here yet for there is no change in the air, no shaking out of winter’s coat, no quickening of tempo, no intimations of warmth.  Winter still sits heavily here like a guest overstaying its welcome.  This is not spring.  But how wonderful when it finally comes.