No Sad Springs

The air is beginning to be green with pollen and there are buds on the magnolia trees and azaleas. Another spring is just around the corner, impatiently waiting its turn in the cycle of seasons. From my windows I can see roses in bloom, crepe myrtle waking up, and a front yard littered with fragile dandelions that float away in the breeze. The Saturday morning sounds are now lawn mowers instead of leaf blowers and shirtsleeved neighbors are at work in their hedges and gardens. Sunshine streams though the blinds of the sunroom in the morning, patchworking sleeping cats and making patterns across the carpet. There is light and warmth most everywhere.

I have had, that I can remember, no sad springs. Other seasons bring reminders of friends no longer here, of endings and hardships, burying a beloved cat or dog, of people who have touched my life and places that I may never see again. Spring brings hope and optimism, the promise of newness is in the grass and the sunshine and the extended light of early evenings. It's a time to dance in the town square, picnic by a river, pick flowers and take Sunday afternoon drives in the country. It's a time to listen to music on outdoor stages and drink sweet wine on covered patios at expensive restaurants. It's a time to revel and rejoice for each breath we are given.

Time is a gift, precious and far more fleeting than we can ever imagine. Spring will be a shortlived season and I will give thanks for each and every day.