Spring?
Ben has a “spring” in his step this morning–he can’t contain it!
He’s been out in the sun and has caught the mood. There is change in the air.
A stillness that is palpable; a blue sky and birdsong.
I’d say his enthusiasm is a little premature, if he’s thinking Spring is sprung.
Not quite, Ben–though the bird is on the wing.
The deciduous trees in the meadow behind the house are still leafless–but their branch patterns make an agreeable filigree to contemplate from the warm comfort of my snug at breakfast time.
But he’s right that it’s good to be alive, which is what he seems to be saying with his frolicking .
And there are signs….
The bitter almond tree at the end of the garden is full of blossom, as are its fellows all the way to Lautrec.
One moment they are bare; and the next, it seems, there is blossom.
Such is the miracle.
The clutch of daffodils at the entrance to the garden are in no doubt.
We spotted three heifers in the pasture yesterday, where we haven’t seen a cow for months–sent by mum, perhaps, to check the length of the grass for grazing.
No cows today–grass ain’t riz yet, Ma.
For those a bit puzzled…
Spring has sprung,
The grass has riz,
I wonder where the birdie is?
They say the bird is on the wing,
But that’s absurd.
The wing is on the bird!
Dad used to show off by speaking this with a Brooklyn accent.
…they say the “boyd” is on the wing,
But that’s “absoyd”.
The wing is on the “boyd”!
