“And don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter.
It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.”
{Rumi}
Tag Archives: Spring
Life Lately.
Two of my dearest friends came to visit for the week.
We talked and laughed and explored the streets together and were reminded why we have loved each other so much from the start
Who couldn’t love a friend with penguin socks?
We ransacked the dessert section in my favorite Italian coffee shop
And explored all the beautiful streets and corners of some of my favorite towns. I could take a picture of every perfect little piece of New England architecture
And perfect little bird houses too
The other day after exploring my favorite bookstore I came home with lots of old maps, a book printed on a letterpress with raised words you can feel when you run your fingers over the page, a stunning book of American poetry with a bunch of my favorite authors all wrapped up between the same two covers, and a little bitty book of Shakespeare too :]
The trees are blushing crimson in the warm light of spring
And the sunshine is warming everything up
And these two are warming my heart up :]
The World is Waking Up
“i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)”
The poem i thank you God for most this amazing by e. e. cummings
Listen to the Rain
Listen to the rain pounding on the glass.
Its rain not snow— we’ve come out of one thing and into another. Winter inches back, spring unfurls in raindrops and daffodils.
The sky is gray today but the clouds water the earth and we are all waking up to new life and new hope. There is blue sky and sunshine behind the clouds of gray. There is green grass and flowers vibrant waiting under the damp sod.
The rain means something; it means we are to the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Spring is falling from heaven in the rain and we are waking up with the sleepy damp earth.
Listen to the rain pounding on the glass. Like the beating of your heart, it means we are alive.
Breathe in the Outside Air
I need to go outside. I need to breathe in the outside air, feel the sunshine on my skin, the wind on my face. I need to walk in the woods, feel the earth crunch beneath my feet. I need to sit by the ocean, toes buried in sand, salty sea on my lips. I need to climb a tree, feel the rough bark against my skin, see the world from above. I need to hear the birds sing, listen to the leaves rustle with the breeze. I need to smell earth wake up again in blossoms and blooms. I am alive when the earth is alive. I am awake when I’m outside.
Spring is coming, we are almost there. Winter will let go, earth will wake up again. We are almost there.
Dandelion
Oh, Taraxacum officinale, you whimsical hippy flower. You start out golden and vain–sunshiny hair blowing in the wind. You grace spring early–hurrying the snow on its way, standing tall before the other flowers have courage enough to poke heads through the cold, damp sod. You are called “dent de lion”–lion’s tooth, with lion-like mane of fierce, unruly hair. But your life is short-lived, dear dandelion. The sun begins to warm and your sunshiny hair begins to fade. Your glowing mane turns fuzzy frenzy. The soft breeze blows your soft hair away. You are gray and balding. Hippy flower that you are, will not submit to the rules of age and even in balding you delight in your own magical way. Each lock of hair a magic wand in the wind. You let down your hair–sprinkling it across the land, through the woods–like mystical fire flies flitting through the night. You proud, vain perfectly perfect hippy flower.
The Baby Leaves!
My husband always calls the first leaves of spring “baby leaves” because he gets a kick out of how tiny and bright they are. I decided to write a ditty about these baby leaves in honor of the first day of spring :] I hope you enjoy the baby leaves as they start to poke out in your part of the country!
The birds are singing and the peepers are peeping,
The buds are bursting with baby leaves and blooms.
The flowers are poking their heads through the sod
Ready to unveil the canvas painted all winter long.
The sky is competing with nature’s awakening hues
deepening ever in cobalt blue.
The windows are open, the breeze blows in–
The bugs think it’s an invitation to come in.
The ants are busy, busy as bees
but none are busy as the baby leaves.
A new generation, a grand debut!
The leaves work quickly, they must work fast–
by summer heat their lives are half past.
They delight in the spring with life anew,
Shade in the summer in rich emerald hue.
By autumn’s entrance they are golden and proud
blushing in crimson, pleasing the crowd.
They fall to ground robing it in color,
Sleep all winter getting ready for summer.
We wait and we watch until spring comes again–
until the baby leaves trust the sun’s warm rays
and burst forth with new life for a few short days.
Outside Air 