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Posts Tagged ‘flowers’

The prompts this week from Inspiration Monday IX  BeKindRewrite are great. Here is another submission. Thank you, Stephanie.

The Wonder of Spring or Postcard from Hell

 The smell and feel of spring air in Maine is exhilarating. This year anticipation was longer than usual. The never ending winter of cold and snow takes a toll on both the body and soul in this part of the world.

To be able to inhale deeply, smell the mingling of crocus, daffodil, forsythia bush, and pine tree, and at the same time hear the performing orchestra of bird songs, the gentle rush of the wind and the soft gurgle of my small brook in the distance is truly a gift.

Without available time, this gift cannot be unwrapped. Today, just today, I have the luxury of time. This doesn’t often happen. Most days this gift remains wrapped up tight, the beautiful willow green wrapping paper of moss carpet growing unnoticed to my eyes. The pliable brown and tan branch boughs tender with cranberry colored buds that make a lovely bow surrounding the package will often sprout without me.

Usually only the eyes of the residents living in the woods behind my house see daily the goings-on. The rafter of turkeys led by strutting Mr. Tom roams for food making its daily check-in without me. I don’t often see the few white tailed deer cautiously peek through the trees looking thin from the cruel winter.

Chipmunks scurry up a tired, almost lifeless tree peeking in and out of the old blue birdhouse tacked there long before I arrived.  Yesterday, I caught a glimpse of one through my kitchen window as I ran out the door for work. Today, he was still around. Our eyes met for a nanosecond as he quickly ran past my Adirondack chair.

Moles work hard burrowing in tunnels below what is supposed to be my grassy back yard.  Fisher stays in his den only to come out at night when my eyes are closed. Squirrels race each other from limb to limb jumping on my roof and then back, preferring the better feel of the trees beneath them. The pileated woodpecker has worked diligently on his canvas of trees leaving three or four inch holes, a geometry of designs for a wanderer to behold.

What a lovely spring picture this is, or is it? Is the picturesque postcard-like scene of life behind my house a wonder of spring or is it a postcard from hell for me because I have allowed my life to steal my time and ability to be involved in the productive lives of these, my forest friends?

As I take another whiff of Maine air, the air I grew up with and love, I know the answer. This is the Wonder of Spring, spring last year, this year, next year and the year after.

Unwrapping this gift package of real beauty surrounding me, even if it is only once or twice a season, is so much better than not unwrapping it at all.

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