“Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses…” – Sir Alan Herbert
This past weekend, I took advantage of the warm hours of sunshine, slipped on my gardening gloves, and headed out into the gardens with the pruners. The remnant of last fall’s foliage, weathered and grayed and lifeless, lay strewn in mounds. After a few hours of whacking and pulling, I could see the new green leaves working themselves up from the thawing ground.
Though it’s a lot of work, there is nothing to me like getting down on the ground, working in the dirt. The smell of earth and soil is sharp, with the hint of something alive and growing. After many months of snow and freezing temperatures, I appreciate the hope of spring.
Something new is coming. For some reason, I feel like this spring will last.
Song: “Orpheus with his lute made trees” By William Shakespeare
(from Henry VIII)
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing, die.