Sunday, May 31, 2009
This afternoon, as I watched old movies and lettered some lovely robin's-egg blue wedding envelopes, I thought about Spring. When I was a kid, this season was my favorite time of year. I used to spend hours outside exploring -- when we lived in Long Island, we wandered the neighborhood, discovering red rubber balls, hidden marbles, and sea shells that had washed up during storms on the beach. The world seemed fresh and new and magical. When we moved upstate, we wandered around our farm, watched the plants push up through the cold ground, picked flowers for our teachers, and were amazed at the miracles around us: calves being born and chicks and goslings coming out of their eggs. We even had our share of lambs, goats and geese under the kitchen sink, where the heat lamp could keep them warm. Spring was a time of fresh green, new things, and hope.
So, as I sit here at my work table, looking out at my garden, which is running rampant with all the rain we've had, I will try not to feel guilty about the fact that I'm not out there ripping out the weeds and controlling the chaos... instead, I choose to enjoy the exhuberant growth, and the amazing transformation from cold, white wasteland to splendid, unstoppable life.
In celebration, here is a piece I created for my mother, based on a Haiku she wrote: Little bird, spring comes, why don't you build that nest?