Spring has long since passed, but I am still entranced by the blossoming beauty of the dogwoods. These photos were hiding in a file on my laptop, which I am typing from right this minute, and I thought they were lovely enough to share.
Spring always lifts my spirits with its gradually warming rebirth of everything wondrous that slowly faded into sleep during winter. Winter's fingers are reluctant to let Spring go, but there are still the smallest hints of the chill and snow remaining behind in the pure white blossoms Spring ushers in. Drops of soft, nearly-watered snow drifts just barely clinging to life in the trees and flowers.
It will not be long and the leaves of fall will tumble from the treetops in greater amounts than usual. And afterwards the winds of winter will sweep in, and we will all huddle snugly in our quilts and stare out the windows at the cotton-stuffed gray sky and wish for the warmer weather to come free us from our indoor hiding. But after the warmth returns to the world, we will look back and think fondly on the snowflakes and clumps of frozen whiteness that gathered in the low places of the earth before that is no longer there. It was always peaceful and quiet, and a rest to our souls.
Yet after we are rested, we long for the heat of life. And the warm arms of the sun embrace us and the blossoms, and the trees during Spring -- the start of the new year which we ease into with smiles.
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