Everything has sprung anew. The magnolias and forsythias have bloomed, their branches reaching happily towards sunlight. My heart has warmed with their vibrance, too. I can hardly believe that we sleep with windows open and walk around in shorts and tank tops in March in the Midwest.
Each year I’m always relieved that the miracle of spring has happened again, because I’m always a little afraid it won’t. Sometimes those weeks between late January and early March feel so cold, so dead that I lose faith that the world will thaw and thrive again.
It did. It always does.
A few good reads from around the web this week :
In brief, beautiful bloom. (An old NPR story that still brings tears to my eyes.)