The Breeze is Blowing

Knew this was a special day, a glimpse of the wren dressing her nest with baby's breath from my deck. The titmouse fumbling for twigs through the dead thyme, still hanging from the green clay pot. Signs of preparation for birth all around. Nesting. It's a sure sign of spring.

Two weeks ago, I thought I knew spring, but then ignoring the weather, I awoke to all my wisteria buds having died in the 31 degree night air. That broke my heart. I've grieved over it and grieved some more. It does not bring them back to life. But I must go on. So today, with blue painting the sky, clouds forming with no threat intended, breeze blowing hair and gently cooling the sun's strong rays, I found it was time to be proactive. The pine straw needed to be pulled back to give the beds a time of warming, exposing any new growth I may have missed. The rain induced creek exposes new rocks. I love to look over the offering, fresh revelations of earths inner self. Today I spied something sparkling and muddied my shoes to retrieve it. A six inch piece, fossilized wasp nest covered in crystals the size of sea salt. Taking it to it's new home, It finds itself now a part of my adultified rock collection masquerading as a flower bed border. Having started the rock hunt, I find a large one I can actually carry and place it outside the fence where Rosey, the Big Red, the one with paws outstretched under the fence. The one who has dug up all of one bed and carried a blackberry bush, fresh from the fence, now uprooted and in a million pieces. That Rosey tries to quickly remove any clay I dig up as if she has a project that might require it. All of this attention done from the inside of the fence where I am out. The activity is witnessed by the white fluff dog, Callie, whose goal is to bark continuously while the rest of the world is having a peaceful day. The clay-grabber and the incessant barker...my companions as I enjoy all of the glories of spring and it's promise of more and more of the same...for me and for them. Gong inside, looking out my window, I spy one lone wisteria blossom dangling like an earring on the arbor. It's a fine sight. One beauty. One survivor. What a way to start a season. Joy all around. Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad;.... Let the field be joyful, and all that is in it. Then all the trees of the woods will rejoice before the Lord. For He is coming.... Psalm 96:11a-13a