Transitions

Mother nature tries to paint it clear. Stark, cold, blue shadows cast on sparkling winter white. Each season holds beauty & harshness. I never want to take these stunning shadows of blue for granted. But winter has run it’s course. It is time to go. At this time, where I choose to focus, will either uplift me or weigh me down. Moving from winter into spring is drenching cold rain, ice that clings and hardens like a glacier. It is stubborn & refusing to receded. It is mud snuffing out the sparkling snow of which I have become so tired of. There is a rumbling of nature and earth surrounding me before I ever hear the crack of thunder & lightning of a spring rain. It is in the buds of trees waiting to burst. It is the seed & green suppressed on verge of a colorful explosion.
In the in-betweens, I learn the lessons of patience. Hope moves into the limelight. It is a time to dream & imagine. My mind is constantly rolling over a vision of my garden. Wistfully I conjure up fragrance, color, and delicate floral beauty. I am ready to exchange the warmth of an old sweater, flung off for glory of sunshine caressing my shoulders. In my heart I hear the chorale of birds rejoicing in sheer delight of winter put to rest. I long for an evening of frog’s seranade.
It’s not as simple as flipping from one calendar scene to the next. Winters grasp is fiercely holding the page from turning. Spring is pleading and anxiously tugging to turn the page. And so we wait, knowing who is going to win, it is just the matter of when.