It only takes a week to become careless with gold. We absently leave fistfuls on countertops and in corners, overrun with the sudden wealth of it all. The children plucked the first five dandelions this week, and I look forward to those, too, left in mounds soon all over the house.
I turned my head, and the opposite hill grew green froth bright and new among the brown.The surge of spring waking is almost overpowering at times, so much life and color and sun and warmth and sweetness all tumbling onto us at once. Maybe that's one reason God sends abundant rain and gray, too, so that we aren't stunned senseless by too much at one time.
Life is already starting to speed along with typical spring headiness and seasonal chores. Little, green seedlings all lined up stretch toward the sun on our windowsills. It doesn't seem possible to do all that needs doing, and when I sit down and think about it, it really isn't possible, which is the sure sign that it all really doesn't need doing. That's my license to stop feeling overwhelmed and to sit, instead, letting the new breezes ride over me. My permission to stretch toward the sun. Life is more than impossible to-do lists and personal shortcomings, thank goodness. Spring is a lesson in good living.
Stews and soups give way to fresher food. Syrup-making gives way to seedling-tending, sweaters to short sleeves, hunkering down to Up and Out. Hope you're all taking in the good of your seasons. Hope rises fresh.