Spring, Spring, Spring.....

"Springtime is the land awakening. The March winds are the morning yawn."

~Quote by Lewis Gizzard in Kathy Sue Loudermilk, I Love You~

I had just finished smoothing the covers in place when my task was interrupted by a knock on the front door. Puzzled at who would be calling at such and early hour I went to answer the knock. Even more puzzling was the fact that no one was there. "Strange." I thought to myself as I stood peering through the full view window. I opened the door and I felt her presence immediately.

She brushed past on a little hush of a wind bringing with her the heady scent of daffodils and the lyrical sound of bird song. Sweet Spring had come to pay a call. Her invitation to walk with her in God's Garden was more than I could resist so I left the task at hand and joined her. We slipped into the early morning light, she and I, not saying a word. We simply listened, looked, and lapped up the color, fragrance, and sound. We tread softly across the green carpet sprigged with the daintiest and most petite of wildflowers, Bluets, in varying colors from the almost white to a vivid blue~purple hue.

I smiled as we brushed past a purple patch of Henbit, often mistaken for Dead Nettle, a common weed to some but a strong tie to childhood memories for me. Henbit grew in profusion under the clothes line in the back yard of my childhood home. I spent many pleasant hours under a billowing sheet tent with rocks anchoring the corners against the pull of the summer breeze. I lay on a tattered blanket day dreaming or reading. Often I would lay flat on my stomach, chin propped on crossed arms, eye level with Henbit peeking over the edge the blanket. I studied every part of this tiny treasure. I always imagined that the tiny two lipped bloom had much to say but could not speak, for in spite of having two lips, no tiny tongue was visible in its open mouth.

Much to my delight we passed an enchanted Dead Nettle forest! Just look, can't you imagine wee-folk or a fairy or two living under there? I used to hope to see one when I was little. These weeds look like wonderful magical trees to me and I delighted in their details. Now when I look I no longer hope to see something mythical but instead see the hand of the Creator which is much more magical, knowing that He spoke all these delights into being.

We strolled along in companionable silence admiring the Spring Beauties, a wild flower also known as Peppermint Flowers due to their white petals being deeply veined with a bright pink stripe that makes them resemble the stripe of a candy. These delicate beauties only remain open in bright light and close up at dusk. Countless times in my childhood I would race out in the early morning to watch them pop open and lift their faces to the sun or sit at dusk and watch them close the day by folding their petals and bowing their heads. I always thought these tiny plants have much to teach us. At each days dawning to position ourselves openly before the Son, soaking up all His radiance in a posture of praise, closing out each day with thankfulness and gratitude, bowing in prayer and resting in Him.

Sweet Spring had a delightful surprise in store for me just around the corner. We stepped into an outdoor theater where a grand performance was about to begin. The flood lights ringing the outdoor stage were none other than the golden faces of the dandelion. The other day while running an errand with Handy Hubby we passed a yard positively full of dandelions that had gone to seed. In the late afternoon sun each fuzzy white orb glowed. We were sitting at a traffic light and I gasped, "LOOK!" Handy Hubby startled and thought there was an impending accident when he saw me pointing. Puzzled he responded, "What?" Nose pressed to the window in awe I exclaimed, "A whole yard full of wishes!" He said, "You mean a whole yard full of weeds." "No. Some people see weeds but I see wishes!"
The outdoor theater was bedecked with brand new foliage. A leafy green tree provided the perfect backdrop to showcase the performers. I could see them just off stage all dressed in white with hints of orange on the male performers costumes. Delicate pink blooms bordered the left and right edges of the stage completing the frame.

Tiny red velvet oak leaves were draped on the canopy above and golden tassels swayed to orchestra of birdsong. It was a most grand theater indeed!
I heard the musicians tuning up before we ever entered the theater. From the percussion section I heard the distinct rat~a~tat tat of the Downy Woodpecker. Rehearsals were quite chaotic with the Cardinal and the Blue Jay retreating into the bramble that served as dressing rooms for a few moments of quite before the performance began. The Eastern Bluebird had no problem warming up on a branch in the field a bit removed from the activity. The Mourning Dove and Junco followed suit only they chose to perch on rocks along the ridge line. Somehow all the taps, twitters, and tweets came together to create a heavenly symphony. A slight hush sounded as we settled ourselves on the wooden steps of the deck that served as seating and waited in anticipation for what was to come next.

A troupe of Falcate Orangetips entered center stage and danced a delightful butterfly ballet. Their gossamer wings moving with grace in tandem with their partner. In the air en l' an assembl'e, alle'gro movements ensued, depicting a grand chass'e as each dancer would ballon from blossom to blossom, flicking de cot'e, only to croise'e paths and begin the danse again. Translation: In the air, joined together, brisk and lively movements ensured, depicting a grand chase as each dancer would lightly bounce from blossom to blossom, flicking sideways, only to cross paths and begin the dance again.

I clapped in delight with a standing ovation at witnessing such a delicate and beautiful performance. After the royal ballet was complete refreshments were served. Dancers mixed with the audience of Dusky Winged Skippers, sipping sweet nectar and resting on peppermint striped stools. The percussion section headed on up to the buffet and dug right in!
Shy wild violets reposed against the rocks and gathered in tiny clusters discussing the dance. They were clothed in velvet gowns of purple hues ranging from pastel shades to deep rich jewel tones. Their sweet faces were bent in modesty. These dark beauties often hide themselves away in long grasses and their blooms are very fleeting. Their fragrance and color unveil their hiding places and I delight in spotting the first one every spring.

As a final gift Sweet Spring lead me around another corner and presented me with a glorious sight, one that reminds me of my grandmother. Perfect pink blossoms filled out the tiny shoots of the clipping she gave me last year. This bush grows wild near the rock fence surrounding the home where she used to dwell here on earth. I felt like I was given a little gift from heaven to see those tiny sprigs not only survive but thrive.
With a happy sigh Sweet Spring and I parted ways for I needed to return indoors to finish my chores and she needed to be about her business of birthing a new season. Knowing I could enjoy her company for many days to come I thanked her for the pleasure of her presence. She nudged me with her warm wind and sent my gaze upward, reminding me who it was I really needed to be thanking that my heart can sing, Spring, Spring, Spring!

Blessings,
Miss Sandy

P.S. Darling Daughter and I were laughing over the fact that we take the same photos of the same things every spring! We cannot help ourselves we have not seem them in ever so long. Next week I will show you what happened when my camera took a walk without me and she was the shutterbug.