The trees in our forest have suddenly dressed themselves — lavishly, I dare say.
I almost didn’t notice that they had gone from stark naked (at least the deciduous ones) to adorned in fluffy green leaves until one day, I did. And there it was: a sea of greens, some pastel; others a deep, mossy color.
Spring has been tapping on our shoulders for some time even if it’s been a whirlwind around here and I’ve barely had time to update the calendar. The urge for Spring chores came over us like April showers and now we find ourselves without enough time in the day to paint the chicken coop, plant new seeds for the garden, mulch the front beds, cut back those winter-worn stems and give everything a little freshening up.
It is so very satisfying, the nurturing of life.
I wrote that to my Aunt this morning when she texted a picture of a tree (she thought was dead) starting to blossom. It’s the feeling that comes over me when I stand in the evening dusk, watering the Salvia and the Plumbagos, listening to the sound of water showering on glossy leaves. I love that sound. Or roll pizza dough, dusted in brown flour. Or feed the chickens, or love on the dogs. Or push through that exhausted day-is-done feeling to read the kids a good bedtime story and sing their favorite songs.
And maybe I’m just feeling sentimental because of the clear, blue skies, but what great joy I find in tending to these things and watching them blossom. Is there anything better? They say that the secret to joy is service and perhaps that’s as simple as that — when you spend time loving other things, the love and joy you receive is tenfold.
After a long winter of all-encompassing morning sickness and too-much-TV, it feels so good to go days without the background noise of a glowing screen. To cook from scratch again. To dig in the dirt again. To do those things that one does for themselves — and together as a family — that provide rhythm and purpose and peace.