Wednesday, February 20, 2008


Looking out at the white ground, the naked trees, the ice that covers every level and semi-level surface since the weekend's big thaw, the stillness of the garden, it is difficult to imagine that it will ever be spring again. Will the ground be free of snow and ice and offer us green again? Will plants push up from the ground and flower? Will leaves come from those tiny brown buds and grow large to cover the trees so much that I cannot see the neighbors' houses again? Will there be fruit on the serviceberry tree and pods on the bladdernut and the Kentucky coffeetree? Will those fuzzy buds on the magnolias really give way to giant waxy flowers? Will the grapevines drip with purple again? Will ferns fill the woods with waist high fronds? Will songbirds and chipmunks and insects and spiders return? Will the bird song and the buzz of cicadas and the chirp of katydids really mask the sound of the nearby tollway? Will the fragrance of molding leaves and flower nectar again fill the air outside my backdoor? That nature asks us each year to believe this in the dead of winter perhaps explains why we are so eager to believe the claims of every false product and every false religion that is presented to us.
Faith is . . . believing spring will come in February.


goprairie said...

immediate apologies to mom cat - I am afraid I too have fallen into complaining about the weather . . .

Gene Redlin said...

Now, Karma, You KNOW I will comment on this.

Faith is faith depending on the thing in which you place your faith.

Both of ours are pronounced the same.

Both are bright shining.

Both are in the Sky.

Both are a consuming fire.

Both are life giving.

Both are dependable.

Both are subject to worship.


Paddle said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
goprairie said...

gopaddle: at least it wasn't a hip!
gene: maybe the whole thing was a test to see if you were reading.

Paddle said...

Of course Spring, and Summer will come. But then we will complain about those things too. The heat, the dry, the humidity, the pollen in the air making us sneeze and scratching our eyes. The excessive rain (esp on the weekend) when we'd like to be outdoors. The need to pull weeds and/or mow the lawn. Dang kids on bikes and motorcycles raising noise levels and dust. Mosquitoes! More visible litter. Every season has awesome things to enjoy (and complain about) and look forward to with anticipation. Yet that anticipation need not manifest itself as disregard or dislike for our current season. It's special too. I think this has (and continues to be) an excellent winter. Lots of cold to keep the gift of snow around and visible. No pollen. No dust. No litter. Less noise. Beautiful scenery. Sun Dogs. Bragging rights with our friends in warmer areas of the world (those poor unfortunate people). My ribs, bruised from a nasty fall on the ice almost 3 weeks ago, will eventually heal. I walk more carefully now and it helps me see the ice and snow more clearly (and yes, appreciate and respect it more).

I love where live and the tradition of enjoying (and complaining about) the seasons. I know down deep, you do too. Enjoy your day.

Mom Cat said...

It's OK. Your approach is different from someone else's. Spring is the awaking of nature after a long nap. We should be so lucky!!!! Hang in there, spring will come, I'm sure of that.

The Kept Woman said...

I'm here to confirm that your faith might very likely go unanswered this winter. Here in WI there's a very good chance that grass will never appear again and my flip-flops will turn to dust before I can wear them again.

Then again I'm off my meds.

Carry on.

P.S. Mom Cat will get over it, she has to hear my whine about it all the time. I think she might be getting numb to it. Either that or she's counting down the years until I can move away again.

Mom Cat said...

How about a little cheese with the "whine"?

goprairie said...

Cheese? curds or brick? I miss land of cheese when it is winter and the gallery is closed.

DFV said...

I miss two seasons: winter and "Indian Summer". Here in San Francisco, I'm planting things in a little garden willy-nilly because I don't know when to plant: all the seed packets say "after the last frost." If you don't really have a frost... I'm making a "fairy portal" in an obscure part: stepping stones, flowers and plants get smaller and smaller until they hit a small retaining "wall" (about 6" high and wood). And on it is a 2" oval silver mirror studded with rhinestones. Could be fun for the people who discover it.