and everything seems two weeks ahead of its season. Gardens are surging and dragging their owners behind them. Trees are as green as May with days still left in April. We can sleep at night with open windows.
Some time ago, perhaps as I realized I was growing older, I lost the charm of winter. Christmas saves the cold and fills it with a kind of purpose but there is more to winter then Christmas and the weeks that follow are chilly and wet without redemption. I am here because I must but there is no desire within to live half the year trapped in layers of clothing and the walls of a house.
So I cherish spring, which I have learned to love with the passing of time. Its skies, its life, even the rains are the taste of good things to come and what joy to let the furnace rest. Soon I will play music on the porch. Soon I will weed the garden in the evening sun. Soon I will drive with the windows open and the sounds of everywhere flowing in. Soon I will feel the grass beneath my feet and hear the wind blowing in the warmth of night.
Soon.
The Beautiful Path 