Today is the first day of spring! I woke early and savoured the moment.
The word ‘spring’ is joyous in any context. Flowers have appeared in thousands where ever one looks. For the last two weeks the park down the street has been overrun by the birds. The Wood Ducks are guarding a patch of grass from animals, birds, and people. I suspect their family is hidden there. Across to the pond, the other Wood Duck family have hatched. Fluffy and gorgeous! They have kept a smile on my face long after I encounter them on my walk. The Black Swan is stunning. Seeing me approach the lake he swims off regally to his mate. Together they guard their cygnets. I’m surprised to see they are born white! There is so much I don’t know. The Little Corella look splendid as they saunter along the grass. They are fearless. I walk under canopies of them.
In my garden the jonquils are blooming in clusters like a mop of curls on a child’s head. The honeysuckle catches the morning light. The jasmine is budding. The giant mulberry tree is a tangle of limbs. A tiny green speck signals growth, and gives hope.
That’s what spring means to me. Hope. It is a generous gift from Nature in an annual reminder. What is buried deep in the darkest of winter, will push through, will rise, will bloom, will be beautiful again.
I want to bottle the quiet moment I experienced this morning so I can open it anytime in the future, like an unexpected gift. With curiosity, with happiness, with hope. It is where the child in me lives. It is a place worth revisiting.
Until next time
a dawn bird
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