The Greening

Spring is glorious! Always my favorite season, the breath of life, that feeling of past, present and future all in one intake of breath. Vision expands, the heart swells, and the senses are full. The shifting breezes caress the sun-exposed skin, bringing sweet songs and scents. The birches quiver to life, as if a thousand green butterflies have emerged to dry their wings. The evergreens are soft to the touch, tipped everywhere with new growth, like 50-feet Christmas trees done up with small green bulbs. The gifts under them are daffodils, tulips and wild violets thriving in their shelter.

Huge cherry trees are puffed with white flowers, and other sylvan treasures are decked in yellows, pinks and reds. The fields are a patchwork of tan, green, and bright yellow as the crops spring up. Tiny green spots dot the vegetable garden, as the seedlings break ground. So many yellow flowers turn their happy faces up. The lilac blooms in their masses, ready to spring forth, seem like Mother Nature's expression of the antipaction of summer that sings in my soul.

And through it all winds the music, as the birds call to one another, or simply express their joy. The evening crescendo is marvelous, as the Amsel leads the harmony. To my immense pleasure, a pair of bluebirds have installed a family chorus in the birdhouse. I can hear them chirping, and mom and dad are never far away. When I hear their voices rising, I know I will see one parent perched in a nearby limb, while the other stands in front of the birdhouse and pokes its head in and out, finally entering entirely before darting away again. I hope we will always have bluebirds in the yard. Some of the birds tease me with curious calls until I look up into the tree. Then they are silent, and I can't find them.

A large shadow passes over. All the small birds scatter for the safety of the densely-foliated evergreens. A beautiful hawk soars over the tops of the trees. Then two, then three! They glide out over the valley, soaring quickly through the sky, and on the thermals, up and up, their paths intertwining as if a huge dance. In the background, three bubbles of color floating, drifting nearer, blasting like a giant snoring, hot air balloons make their way toward the sparkling waters of the lake.

Every day new discoveries. The smell of lilac. An iris growing. Weeds with flowers. Rain of white petals. When the bluebird sings, it captures me. I can only stop and listen. It's like angels telling joy to the world. I want to stop passers-by and make them listen. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. Evening's light is golden, not gray.

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