This riot of color is only what I hope my garden can, some day, be. I love tulips and pansies and daffodils. I’m not sure if the hanging trees are wisteria, or willows. Are there any peonies in there. I hope so, because I love the smell and I love the bloom. The crocuses are coming up now and in a few weeks we will have daffodils.
I planted six rose bushes on Thursday. The lilacs outside my bedroom window have buds on them, and it won’t be too long before they bloom too.
I am really fond of spring. It is the season of renewal. It is the time to plant.
New soil is left from the snow of the dreary winter. New seeds that have lain beneath the snow, nestled in their hard shell, begin to soften up and surely many will sprout tender roots that will dig deep into that soil for nourishment.
When its roots are firmly planted in the ground, they will begin to sprout through the topsoil and, in time, will blossom. They show off their beauty, wearing it, as a badge of honour.
I would like to have the courage of those hardy little seeds. They have been cold, and dark, and lonely. Yet, they persist and do what God intended them to do. Creating beauty that is pleasing to the eyes, the nose, the fingers, and some of them, the tongue. When the wind moves through them they are even pleasing to the ears.
