Monday, February 3, 2014

the light

As I leaned over and dug in the cool, rich soil my Silas came up underneath me and nosed my chin.  We stayed there, locked in a moment, him expressing his love, me accepting it.  He ventured off, to gnaw on a bone probably, and I continued digging. 

I  dug and turned the soil, separating the clumps of sod until I couldn't stand up straight anymore, at which time I surmised that was as good a time to stop as any.  And that digging in the soil, dreaming of the food that will grow there, in my garden, made me take a look around and when I did...I saw promise. 

Tiny green shoots have popped up out of the dirt, showing the location of bulbs someone before me took the time to plant.  A large bush with shiny leaves (rhododendron or azalea?) has tiny, hard buds waiting for their time to unfold.  A close look at the bald cherry tree shows something, a hint, tiny growths at the ends of the branches. 

The light is different.  It seems to be one of the first changes I notice.  Like the first hint of dawn at the end of a long night.  I won't fool myself and say Spring has sprung, fully understanding there are still 45 days until the calendar welcomes her in.  But the little kindle of knowing has lit, and I sing like a bird before first light, knowing that the light is coming.


  1. "knowing that the light is coming.."

    that made me swallow back a few tears.
    so grateful for the hope of change in the bleak months of winter.
    hurry on, spring!!

    where do you live again?
    i'm moving there cause you sound about 4 full months ahead of us. ;)

  2. I think the bush with the white buds is a Camilla Bush. They have shiny, waxy leaves like a Rhododendron. I seem to remember Rhodies have clusters of buds.

    Your garden is looking good. How's that spading on your back?

    1. Oooh, a Camilla? I look forward to watching that bloom!

      The gardening is rough on my back but if I ice the muscles afterwards it's not too bad. It doesn't hurt the same way as what walking on concrete floors does to me.

  3. I soaked in your anticipation of spring, in every word. I drank up the promise in your pictures. With about a foot of snow on the ground spring seems far away here. You are right, it won't be long before I have a table full of seedlings in m living room.

  4. The light is coming--yes! Even here in the deepfreeze of the north, there are subtle changes to the light already. Love your photos.