A week ago, we were worried that drought would keep our spring brown and our gardens thirsty. Then, we were blessed by wonderful storms that brought thunder, a bit of hail, and spring’s annual magic.
We watched as, within a few days, the dead browns of winter were replaced by spring’s impossible greens.
(Well, most of us watched. Murphy hid under bedcovers when thunder rumbled.)
Crocus blossoms opened and spiders crisscrossed the blooms with delicate strands of filament…sometimes, I think these hold the world together.
The river rose and even spilled over the banks a bit.
This little fellow splashed happily in the ditch, using a puddle as his private spa.
I was under the weather during the tail end of the week. Try as I might, I didn’t escape the spring flu wiggling its way through my students and then through me. I’d looked forward to meeting a friend and sharing lunch before exploring the Wisconsin Film Festival, and was disappointed I had to cancel that adventure. But I did stumble out yesterday for a family gathering and belated celebration of Phillip’s birthday. The morning began with a brilliant sunrise that flashed around the bedroom, refracting in windows and surprising the heart with joy.
A tentative walk with the pups assured me I had my sea legs back under me and walked once again among the living. That green! What an amazing medicine, shooting straight through the eyes, the body, and spirit.
We met our family for lunch, and then visited the nearby home of Phillip’s niece, who raises sheep and chickens.
Surrounded by people we love, the sweetness and beauty of the new life, and the impossible green, I knew I was on the mend.
And mending renews hope: If the earth can transform from colorless death to wild green life in just a week, well, maybe there’s hope for humanity. Maybe nothing’s impossible, after all.
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