Spring

A quick trip to Bath, Maine, a few weeks ago reminded me how dry the air was (my hair would not behave!) and how cold it was. I thought I prepared for the change in weather. Back home in Mississippi I was already into lighter clothing. My body shook from the quick change an airplane ride can affect you. I could only remember the prettiest site in our yard before I left:

The Mississippi landscape was just stretching from its short winter nap and the natives were treated to an array of blooms from daffodils, crocus, Bradford pear trees, and the Japanese magnolias. When I returned to the familiar scene the trees had bloomed into that lime green that denotes new growth, the limbs of the greybeard trees were prancing in the breeze and the azaleas were at their height of blossoming. What a lovely sight.

We arrived in a thunderstorm. The next morning the heavy remains of pelting rain lay on the trees, soaked into the soil, giving off a glow that is incomparable. That scene reminded my daughter J how much she missed this time of year. Maine's springs and summers are ever so short. Everyone sees in his own surroundings the reminders of the wonders of nature and how appreciative animals and humans are that spring has arrived.