Three nights ago, the forested hills surrounding our home were smothered in the thick of snow. Warmer days and dismal rain uncovered dull brown earth—and urged us toward despair; the remaining icy white patches threatened yet to have the last word.
While there is no sign of LIFE in the soil or branches out my window, I cherish the certainty of it.
Even now beneath chill-soaked soil, brown pulp is weaving cheery yellows and whites of nascent daffodils. While we slept last night, the dogwood and redbud were quilting ribbons in their hidden, mysterious places. Petalled greens and lavenders and yellows and pinks and whites and rubies are being born from wooden stems, papery bulbs and spongy clay.
Like a surprise welcome party for weary and unsuspecting travelers, LIFE awaits us around the corner.
Can you believe in that? Hold on. Listen. Watch. It's going to be a great show.