Beautiful
Spring
“The
beautiful spring came; and when nature resumes her loveliness, the
human soul is apt to revive also.
Harriet
Ann Jacobs
Spring
is here with its blossoms and rain. Jonquils, narcissus, red-bud,
forsythia, Bradford pears, and oaks are all showing off their blooms. Lambs ear and day lilies are poking their heads through the mulch in my messy garden. My front yard could be cultivated for tiny bald onions, which, by the
way, are edible. One can't help being caught up in the riot of bird
song, gutter drumming, and shear exuberance of the mating season.
We
humans get a little spring in our giddy-up, too. We begin to plan and
execute, dig and weed and plant. Just the sight of any color other
than gray gets our juices jumping. The sap rising up the trees
matches the blood rising in our own trunks. My friend, Isie, is
happily flinging dirt around and, single-handed, keeps Lowe's afloat.
Cousin, Sandy is burying bulbs, and spreading mulch—her first
spring in her new home. I am spraying old pots with new paint in
preparation for the herb garden they will hold. It feels good to be
done with winter.
I
will never experience spring without thinking of my grandmother,
Mama. I can see her in my hind sight, in her petal-pushers and straw
hat, plotting out her garden in Jefferson City, Tennessee. “Never
plant before Good Friday,” she'd warn, “but then give it all
you've got.” The abundance of her green spirit inspires me to this
day. Perhaps, one of the best blessings of this season comes from all
the memories it brings us—of every promising, hopeful spring we
have lived, and the people who shared them with us.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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