and then it was may

and finally warming up again, warm enough for a three mile run in shorts and no jacket, warm enough for flip flops and windows open, warm enough for sitting in the garden at dusk listening to birds and tree frogs and the conversations of neighbors as they pass on their walk down the road. they never know i can hear their voices, sitting in the back and hidden from view–sound travels when you live in the country.

it feels like the year is just beginning. winter is finally through with us (knock wood), and like the flowers in my garden, i feel my spirit beginning to bloom. there is energy for more than curling up before the fire, and late nights in bare feet padding through rooms that are my oldest friends become a habit. i will stay up later and get up early, following the pattern of the sun.

if i could live outside just now, i would, in these months between the too cold of winter and the too hot of summer. temperamental though she may be, spring has her moments of sweetness and smiles, though one must always be careful not to cross her. soon, i will dig my hands into this patch of earth i live my life on, planting and weeding, rooting and moving, mulching and clearing. there is much to be done and never enough time to do it.

but these are the days i look forward to all winter, locked inside by walls of gray and shadow, the only echoes from my own voice and the creakings of my house. winter’s sound of snow and silence will slowly give way to the symphony of spring, music, music to my ears. many a late night i will walk outside, just to hear the peepers serenade. i always wonder what it is they sing for, although i’m fairly certain they are happy just to be here, alive.

and i find myself singing my own songs, in my mind or humming just under my breath, feeling more alive than i have in months. grey becomes green and i become young again, at least for awhile. morning tea in the garden is enough to make me smile.

just now, this very second, the first hummingbird of the year has come to sip nectar from a flower.

today i will hang their feeder on my window, this window i spend so much time gazing out, and they will tease kitties that line up on the sill to watch them feed.

it feels like the year is just beginning.



9 Responses to “and then it was may”

  • deb Says:

    You write my heart so often…

  • Michael Says:

    You are so right; after the winter rest, spring always feels like the new year’s beginning. I can never get too excited about January first; it seems like an accountant’s invention. The peepers and chirpers know; I follow them.

  • Barbara Says:

    Beautiful post. I feel the same way, as if the year was just beginning. But it’s already passing by so quickly…

  • Anna Montgomery Says:

    So happy to know you are awake to life, beautiful!

  • brian miller Says:

    ah i just love this time of year…windows are def downa nd the fresh air is just awesome….you know i lived outdoors the whole first year out of college…was pretty cool…def dirty, but…smiles…may has def brought new life my way too…

    thanks for the email the other day too…smiles.

  • Maery Rose Says:

    Yes, this is the time when I feel so much more open, receptive, and relaxed. You have captured the feeling so well in photo and prose.

  • Pat Byers (Tilda) Says:

    “..these are the days i look forward to all winter…”
    Amen to that. we are sisters to the spring.
    like you, i sleep less, awake with the daybreak, so i don’t miss a thing. i am truly a child of spring.
    in fondest. Tilda

  • Debi Says:

    welcome, says the world. come out. it is always earlier for me, these days of bare feet and night walking, and i will still be out there when the heat is overhead at midnight. i know your heart right now.

    i hadn’t thought i might also be following the pattern of the sun – i’ve just been confused and then accepting. it takes a wise woman like you to make me see. xoxo

  • Kate Says:

    You are very far behind us in the season. And I’m so glad the warmth has reached you and made you happy.

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