...looks like flowers and green and warm skies, it looks like this.
Bare branches, icy fog, melting now.
We start thinking about lilacs and picnics and party dresses, but Spring is not all about pastels and sugar cakes.
When you think about it, Spring holds all the brutality of Winter, along with all the gentleness of Summer. It holds its breath. It holds angry storms. It holds waiting. It holds breakthroughs and meltdowns. It holds possibility.
Sometimes I think my life is all about Spring. It's all about transition. It holds everything in the transition. Both the moment before creativity bursts forth and the fullness of things blooming.
Right now, I feel the bloom coming. It's a little painful as I try to get my way from the fallow period of Winter to the growth of Spring, but it's getting easier.
I'm hoping to get back to my blog, too. As long as I don't get another cold/flu/anything else. (Knock on Wood.)
6 hours ago