Sitting on my back patio, wishing I could find the words to tack down everything that I’ve been thinking lately. I have hinted at my case of writer’s block before, and it seems to me the best way to overcome such ailments is to just WRITE. To write in a very rambling, Virgina Woolf stream-of-consciousness kind of way. (That introduction was entirely necessary in the very likely case this post happens to be total rubbish. Can’t fault a woman for working out her writer’s block 🙂
So, as I said, I am sitting on my back porch this spring-ish evening. I say spring-ish because the weather here in My Old Kentucky Home has been so unpredictable recently. Honestly I have forgotten what Spring is supposed to feel like. Then again, perhaps my memory has faded and this waning day is exactly as Spring ought to be.
If you could only see the sky! Blue has been dusted over with wispy, pink clouds that are moving as swift as the light breeze will carry them. Layer upon layer, the sky gives way to another filter – this time of leafy green buds popping out over the brown bark of winter-worn trees.
I love seeing the color green burst to life after its several month respite. Yes, a few sprigs of the shade appeared on our Christmas wreathes and trees, but it seems to me that green’s great introduction is once the Easter baskets have been put out and the season’s first tulips are revealing their bloom.
Maybe today is a typical Spring day. Maybe this evening is a typical Spring evening. Maybe seasons and months are exactly that, what we make of them.