One would think after four+ decades of life the transition of winter to spring would seem a little ordinary and matter of fact. But no...oh gosh it's amazing! Every single year things grow and birds sing and it is all so beautiful. I would never feel this way if it wasn't for The Long Winter (both the actual physical thing and the book...) The winter is full of its own chore lists and I get so wound into it-- I kind of try not to think about the beach and mowing and gentle, warm breezes. If my mind is clear and focused and I am feeling grateful watching the spring emerge can make me cry. I live in a place where there are so many trees and hilly, mountainous roads. Plants pop up everywhere, everything it seems has a flower- even if it's just for a moment. There is green everywhere. Light green, dark green, pine green, yellow-green, emerald, olive, and 100 more. People announce their appreciation by putting potted pansies out, often just a small pot on the doorstep, perhaps doing their part in aiding mother nature. Or maybe it is just scratching that itch of planting and waiting for picnics and just being outdoors. Either way potted pansies are just the thing.
After driving by Orchard House all winter and seeing it so stark against the hillside I often have the urge to wave like its an old friend. Now it is beaming with lilacs and lily of the valley and so many pansies smiling up. I had to stop and breathe it in. Sawyer knows I love this section of road, he knows I love Orchard House. But I don't think he quite understands why. And do I? Neither of us question it. So sometimes we stop and I take 40 pictures and we get back in the car and go on our way.
