I wrote the word "spring" on an orange, sticky note and pasted it to the wood of my enclosed desk at the shop. It's early for us this year, in spite of named blizzards trekking across the nation dumping much dreaded but much needed precipitation in the form of snow on buildings, highways, trees and people.
I've been watching the early arrival of green as it fills in the landscape, subversively, at first, then with a gaining momentum. With awe, I notice it has filled in almost every gap and cranny of the trees along the roadside. The pollen piles high on the sides of the roads and in uncomfortable sinuses, and there is nothing any one person or allergy pill can really do about it. It's spring. The date is not on the calendar, yet, and the blast of cold air tunneling down to us for the next few days remind us of that, but it's spring here in Central Florida, a time that always reminds me of grace and renewal. I like that in a season.
I've been watching the early arrival of green as it fills in the landscape, subversively, at first, then with a gaining momentum. With awe, I notice it has filled in almost every gap and cranny of the trees along the roadside. The pollen piles high on the sides of the roads and in uncomfortable sinuses, and there is nothing any one person or allergy pill can really do about it. It's spring. The date is not on the calendar, yet, and the blast of cold air tunneling down to us for the next few days remind us of that, but it's spring here in Central Florida, a time that always reminds me of grace and renewal. I like that in a season.
...and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Isaiah 55: 12b
Peace. Love, Linda
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