It's been said, but can't help being noticed.
The eruption of spring.
In one day going from bud to blossom.
The redbud's lavender on the spiny fingers of branch.
The shock of the new: walking in Burnet Park, along the curb, a dusting of lavenderpinkpurple confetti-ish snow. From what from where?
The crabapple a few hundred yards away, casually blizzarding, I guess.
Photos?
Never.
Could never capture this new upon new upon tawny stale breath of wintergray.
The syntax of spring. The grammar of glory (grammar and glamour are related etymologically).
Deo gratias.
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3 comments:
Spring has sprung, even in upstate N.Y.
It's when a young man's fancy does something.
Spring has sprung when the forsythia's buds are like the sun in their pursuit of that yellow hue...
I like spring!
Ok Spring and ants have sprung...(I skipped ahead!) Too bad we don't view both with the same eye..... ;-)
Peace
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