Spring Thaw 

March 14, 2015…Masts Awaiting Sails

Spring Thaw…still had heavy frost sparkling on my windshield this morning

I am sure that Spring will come, and yes I am aware that capitalizing the seasons is not proper grammar, but I have never been one to stand on what is proper, certainly not where the English language is concerned. I personally deem the seasons as worthy to be capitalized. I am also quite fond of fragments so if that offends you please do not proceed. Oh, and I have also been known to make up words.

Now where was I?

Oh, yes, I remember.

I am sure that Spring will come. I see the tulips and the daffodils, and the crocus, and the hyacinths all beginning to push the dirt and what is left of the snow aside in readiness to make their appearances. I have no doubt that soon the air will be warm and delightfully scented. The hillsides are still bare and brown, but soon they will burst forth with vibrant colors. I can’t wait till the days are warm and I can flit from flower to flower in amazement and astonishment that some plan, way beyond my simple understanding, was set in motion eons ago to insure that this happens.

But what of today? 

I might be so focused on what is to come that my forsightedness may cause me to fail to see what is right in front of me. This moment is here and now and full of many beautiful things to see and to feel and to delight in. The river is free to flow along the surface again and the wind seems to take joy in creating ripples. Flocks of geese and diving ducks fly along the river, many considering returning to their breeding grounds north. Osprey and eagles have begun to return here to make nests and raise families. It is marvelous to dream of the future and hope, but I need to learn to balance on one foot, or maybe on my head, so that I don’t let the NOW slip past without appreciation.

I took a cell phone shot of the sun setting on the river the other evening. It wasn’t a particularly good shot and I shared it with a friend and lamented that the light had changed so quickly that I missed the shot I really wanted. My friend sent me back a simple reply. “Still a great shot.”

Those simple words have been resonating in my mind and made me think that it was true and that I had perhaps really missed the beauty of the moment, looking to a future one.

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