It catches me off guard every year. It steals my breath. That glorious first green of Spring. Vivid. Vibrant. I am not sure how to describe it. I am not sure there is a color even in the large box of crayons, the one with a sharpener on the back, that can compare.
Only God, the Perfect Painter, could produce a color like that.
Juxtaposed against the blue sky and the redbud trees blooming, I never cease to be amazed when first I notice it, especially with new calves and foals, budding trees and flowers in the background, I continue to be amazed until the vibrance moves into summer green. While it lasts, I savor the color, the new Spring green, knowing by now how fleeting it can be.
Winter did not finally take her final bow until well into March here.
She was a tough old girl. She came early and stayed way late. Parts of her stay were nice:
Sledding was fun. Building snow people, too.The board games and suppers by the fire were nice. Having snow on Christmas was nice, even if it did seriously interrupt everyone’s holiday plans. The landscape she painted were extraordinary but she exacted a deep price.
Huge chunks are gone from the trunks of the trees in my yard and elsewhere around these parts. The resilience of the trees as they have bloomed, since winter’s departure amazes and inspires. The tulip tree in the front yard and fruit trees all budded out as if they were not maimed by the harshness of her icy touch. Even the daffodils, stricken by her final blast rallied again once the harsh winds settled down and the ice and snow melted.
Our blonde lab, whose domain is usually outdoors in the back yard, spent much of the winter inside.
The memory of winter has faded, now that we can picnic and fly kites. Our little kitchen garden is ready to plant with tomatoes and herbs and strawberries.
Winter seems more remote as Spring takes a firm grasp.
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