[I wrote this for The Record nearly four years ago -- and with a tweak or two, it seemed perfect for today. --Jim]
each blade of grass
vies for attention.
carry tiny blossoms
to astonish us.
"Sunday in Spring"
- Marianne Poloskey
SPRING ARRIVED a few days ago in full, as exuberant as freshly uncorked champagne.
After a strange winter, a string of often chilly and drizzly weeks, then a horrible storm that flooded the area, the sky emerged cerulean blue and the sun radiated a megawatt smile.
At a local wildlife refuge, nature - bottled up lo, these many weeks - made up for lost time.
A male cardinal assiduously courted a female with an offering of seeds.
Robins and red-winged blackbirds readied their nests.
In the lake, herons and egrets and a newly arrived kingfisher poked about for a meal, while carp spawned and splashed by the dozen in the shallows.
Only the frogs and turtles, basking by the shore, seemed willing to sit back and let the day soak in.
Beyond, the daffodils and forsythia bloomed bright yellow. Trees blossomed every shade of pink and white. Lawns awoke.
Humans made up for lost time as well - hiking in short sleeves and shorts, riding bikes, playing catch.
Long-neglected gardens felt the tug of a rake.
Couped-up convertibles let their tops down.
And the screen windows held captive in the garage finally caught a breeze.
Every so often, human nature and Mother Nature happily coincide.
One is never quite so aware of the wonders of this planet as on that first exhilarating weekend of spring.