Softly, gradually, it comes.

by Zinta Aistars





I love the snows, yes, but when the light shifts a certain way, as if more translucent, as if softer, and the air brings a fresh new scent, and the birds at my feeder come a little less often, and the icicles along the edges of the red farmhouse begin to drip, drip, drip ...


... I know, it comes. Spring is not so very far away. Even if there are more snows yet, and there will be, the earth is dreaming of new growth.

March marks my one-year anniversary since moving to Z Acres. I...