March. I am beginning
to anticipate a thaw. Early mornings
the earth, old unbeliever, is still crusted with frost
where the moles have nosed up their
cold castings, and the ground cover
in shadow under the cedars hasn't softened
for months, fogs layering their slow, complicated ice
around foliage and stem
night by night,
but as the light lengthens, preacher
of good news, evangelizing leaves and branches,
his large gestures beckon green
out of gray. Pinpricks of coral bursting
from the cotoneasters. A single bee
finding the white heather. Eager lemon-yellow
aconites glowing, low to the ground like
little uplifted faces. A crocus shooting up
a purple hand here, there, as I stand
on my doorstep, my own face drinking in heat
and light like a bud welcoming resurrection,
and my hand up, too, ready to sign on
for conversion.
"Revival" by Luci Shaw, from What the Light Was Like. © Word Farm, 2010. *Reprinted with permission. (buy now) *Read today on the Writer's Almanac by Garrison Keillor. Permission Granted to Writer's Almanac. But all credit where credit is due to Poet Lucy Shaw.
Today it snowed-- just minute flurries. And now the sun is out. Punxsetawney Phil declared on the second of February, "SIX MORE WEEKS OF WINTER!" Or so he was interpreted. Maybe he just doesn't like crowds. Or cold. Or bright light just after waking. I know the feeling. But I am now more than a little skeptical about this prediction...
The ants are back. They began in the kitchen over a week ago, now. Not just one lone ant on a warm day, with none to follow. We have had ant invasions.
When the hyacinth buds began clearing ground level weeks before, I was worried. At first. That the frost would get them, or more likely, hard ice... Frost they've handled. And then, the crocuses sprang forth like a turkish carpet in one yard. Some could say a fluke, but then again, they have been going strong for over a week and have been joined by daffodils, forsythia. Up north from here, where spring is oft delayed, even by only a few days or weeks, I witnessed snow drops quite early, aconites, and now, this week, fruit trees in bloom! We further South have not yet had our trees begin to bloom ! Though it's been almost a week since, arriving home one morning, the sun shining brightly on our burgundy front door, I spied another familiar sight and portent of warmer weather-- the acid green yellow of pollen velveting the enamel paint.
It's still quite chilly some days, especially some nights, dipping well below freezing.
But I choose to believe.
SPRING HAS SPRUNG.
May all our hearts begin the thaw they need... our faces turned toward the sun, our feet still in wool socks and boots to brave any weather that may yet come our way!
xo
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