The Fig and the Oak

The third day of official Spring: the weather is celebrating the spring equinox without regard to historic droughts or hayfever or gardens needing tilling. I want to sing songs of praise to the renewal of life in all its glory and to wish for joy and good health to all I know. This feels like a Walt Whitman day and songs without end. The birds fill the backyard with their noises, their busyness in digging for grups and worms, their quick flight from blossom to blossom. The squirrels continue to break open acorns, scattering the shells in their insatiable hunt for food, almost a nervous energy moving them from fence to tree to grape arbor. One can almost see the roses grow from one day to the next, first the baby reddish-colored leaves, then the pale, luminiscent green, finally the buds. I can't wait to see what colors will perch atop the bushes for our first spring in this house.

My hands are itching to dig in the soil even if only to plant a few pansies or herbs. There is more work to be done to brighten the backyard but that requires time and thought and tools. Another day for bigger projects. Today is celebrated by a long run in and out of the early morning shadows, along fields freshly mowed, cows munching endlessly, draught horses lazing in the cool air. The hills above the meadows are drawn in distinct outline above the vineyards, the sky turning cerelean above with only a lone wispy cloud a reminder of yesterday's slight fog.

The peace and serenity belies the world at large but some days, it is what we need to refresh our souls, to rejuvenate our bodies, to appreciate all that we have and those we love. A talk with a long-time friend was the icing on the cake this perfect day.