Here in the wooded hills of New England, signs of Spring are arriving daily.
Sunny skies have condensed the snow pack and metal sap buckets festoon the gnarled old maple trees.
New fangled plastic tubing in aqua blue and electric purple race through the gray and white woods like a Christo installation and deliver gallons of freely flowing sap into aluminum tubs. Sugar houses have had vats continuously boiling for sometime now, producing glorious amber colored syrup, the nectar of the Yankee gods…
Our dirt road is as thick and sticky as brownie batter and if you aren’t mindful you can find yourself swerving into a quagmire or losing a boot, as it is literally sucked off your foot on your way to the mailbox. Mud season is indeed upon us.
A huge V formation of jubilantly honking geese passed overhead this morning winging their way North. This is the sign I await at every winter’s end.
Mother Nature could still throw us a curveball, as many snowstorms have manifested in late March but we all hope she retreats as a lamb. The roaring lion and sleet and wind escorted her in a most dramatic entrance.
Another change of season is at our door and the geese call us out of our dormant state to once again embrace the adventure of living…
A winter weary chorus of all living creatures answers a resounding yes…
Can you hear us?
Happy Spring to you wherever you may be!
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