Spring comes. Not with a date on a calendar but a waft on the breeze.
A faint breath of warmth that evokes the need to exclaim,
“Spring is just around the corner.”
That electric buzz of an incoming storm.
First sighted on the horizon by a flash of light.
Dancing through clouds bubbling with rain.
As children we could feel it.
Ran screaming around the yard.
Like foals let out to play.
Sliding on bare feet over slippery grass.
A door tentatively left open after the sun has gone.
Before the mosquitoes come out in force.
Protected by a screen door that bangs with reassuring regularity.
Watermelon eaten greedily. Sticky juices running down arms.
Before I moved to Ireland, the seasons seemed less important.
Now as I grow older, they seem more finite.
Marking time.
Something to be noticed. Appreciated.
A burst of colour here and there as fruit trees bloom with pastel explosions.
I am in awe of Spring.
This one feels different. An absence from Australia has left me with a heightened awareness.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve had two Winters end to end.
Maybe this year I’m aching for Summer. The warmth to penetrate my bones.
Maybe I’m just looking forward to my garden producing the bounty I’ve hoped for.
Looking forward to days where the sun sets late enough to return home and spend lazy hours pulling a weed here. Tying up a loose sugar snap pea with twine there.
Doing more of nothing. And everything at the same time.
Nature awakes from her Wintery slumber.
Creeping back into life.
Our lives.
New lambs. New growth.
A fall of rain encourages a carpet of green where there was only dirt days before.
Understanding the seasons is akin to understanding life.
A time for rest.
A time for expansion and growth.
I’m ready.