Today is the first day of spring in the Southern Hemisphere. A time synonymous with memories of love and laughter.
When I was married, on this day, I could count on my husband giving me a bunch of flowers with a funny poem he had written. This was our tradition, every year. I’m not sure what I looked forward to more, the flowers or the corny poem.
The father of my children may be absent from my life but the memory of many happier times is inescapable, on the first day of spring.
I am also reminded each year at spring, even the infinitesimally small can push through gravel and clay, to bloom again.
Until next time
a dawn bird