We are right in the middle of a soft, spring rain. There’s no thunder, no lightning; only a soft sprinkling of water drops pinging off the still-bare branches and the glass windows of my home. It’s been raining since late last night and the ground is now dark and moist, giving way to the push of the heel as my shoes try to gingerly walk atop it. I hurry the dogs to take care of their business, worried that my hair will turn to frizz if they take too long.
Despite the gentle rain, the birds are flocking to the feeders this morning. (Apparently, there’s no sleeping in when free food is at hand.) Tonight we will set our clocks ahead an hour for Daylight Savings Time even though nobody can ever remember why it is we still do this. It’s so silly, really, that it should take an act of congress to end this ridiculous tradition. The birds have never reset their clocks and they seem to be getting along just fine.
The first of the blossoming trees began to show their stuff this week. I noticed a Saucer Magnolia tree and an overgrown Pussy Willow bush both making their initial push to explode in the prolonged and deepening sunshine this week. Temperatures rose into the 60’s and 70’s and stayed there; a sure sign that everything on this portion of our planet will be awakening to spring’s call for an incredible floor show and the participants will be all too happy to show us what they’ve got. The Forsythia and Quince bushes, Bradford Pear and Flowering Crabapple trees, daffodils and crocuses will get things rolling. Then the lilac bushes, Dogwood trees, and tulips will crowd them out, taking first place in the second act of spring. In my mind, I imagine heaven being spring and autumn all at once: everything in bloom, everything showing its best and brightest colors, every day starting and finishing at the perfect temperature. And then, as we lay our heads down to rest, it will rain exactly like it’s raining this morning – gently, leisurely, without force or fear.
It won’t be long and the grass will need to be mowed, the garden soil turned, the lawn furniture returned to the shady side of the deck. There are many afternoons ahead where I will sit outside, cold drink in hand, spying on my avian friends as they come down from the surrounding trees for a nut-based treat.
We all make choices in life; these choices are mine: to breath in every moment, to see it for what it is, to experience it and remember it and let it soak into who I am. Spring’s tipping point happened last night while I was sleeping and today I wait for the rain to stop and the show to begin.