On Spring
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It’s settled. Spring is the best and purest season, as well as the most ambiguous.
It’s the season that feels most torn between its Brother Winter and it’s Sister Summer. It’s compressed, elusive, and short lived - in Tennessee anyways. But for all these reasons and more, I love her the dearest. It wasn’t always so for me. It has evolved within me with time and age. Summer used to have the strongest appeal for obvious reasons - schoolessness. However, after my spirit being broken by intense and unyielding Summer heat and my growing awareness of Spring’s specialness, I’m resolved.
Spring sings. It glows. It blooms. It pours rain and shifts sun. The breezes plant life among us. The temperatures draw us outside. The colors emerge and demand our attention. The soil prepares for our benefit and for beauty. What could be better? The Winter threatens a retreat and Summer a rush, but nothing will rob Spring of her work, gifts, and her blessing. She always comes. She always delivers all that she has to give us. What else, what more could we ask for?
At different parts of the day I wander my lawn, the garden and though its the same geographical location it is all together different! The light, the hues, the wind, the feel of the air - all revolving yet remaining. A stream of praise can’t be helped: glorious, remarkable, marvelous, enchanting, beautiful, valuable, meaningful, absorbable, robust, and tender.
Spring. Alive, only to die again, soon.