Posts Tagged ‘spring’

It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want—oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!
― Mark Twain

© janet m. webb

It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.
John Galsworthy, The Forsyte Saga

After getting back from Philadelphia, I wanted to get to the park, worried that the wildflowers might have bloomed without me.  But the combination of rain and coolness worked in my favor.  On Friday morning, I donned my Sperry duck boots and headed down the back trail.  It’s going to be a bad year for ticks, so I had tights on under my hiking pants and my socks up over the bottoms.  I have a healthy respect (and dislike) for ticks and their diseases.

© janet m. webb

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for Six Word Saturday

My Monday walk this week took me through a lot of mud in search of wildflowers.  There were thousands of them (wildflowers, not mud, although there was a lot of that, too) waiting for the sunshine to warm the earth a bit more before bursting briefly into bloom.  I tramped through the mud in search of anything else, when suddenly I discovered this patch of wildflowers in full bloom.  I’ll be going back as soon as possible to check on the progress of the other flowers.  Despite the lack of flowers, it was a soul-soothing two hours.

I have no idea what these flowers are and I haven’t had any luck finding them online.  If any of you know what they are (Judy?), please share!  Trying to identify by online photos isn’t easy!

© janet m. webb

© janet m. webb

                  It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams

It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
	the day that begins with fog that moves to sunshine
	the day my husband can ride his bike outdoors
	the day yards are being cleaned
		when daffodils on the south side of the house
		are readying themselves to open at any moment

It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
	when children shout outside
	when my husband doesn’t close the blinds
		(because he’s finished with his PlayStation game
		and the reflections don’t matter for a bit)
	when laundry seems a pleasure
		as well as a necessity
		and the sweet smell whispers, “Spring.”

It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
	the day the breeze is warm
		and “wind chill” a two-word epithet
	the day the beds are aired 
		and sheets smell clean and new.

It’s the Saturday of my winter dreams
        when windows open to let in spring.


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Yesterday morning I took a walk in the park and found spring.   There were definite signs of spring, mostly green. New grass poked through the detritus of winter.  On a dead tree, green moss flourished.  Even the cool air felt like the cool of spring promising warmth to come, rather than the relative warmth of winter with the underlying cold edge to it that says, “Not yet.”  Somehow the same temperature in spring feels different from that of winter.

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