As I sit out on the balcony currently waiting on the sun to make the leap over the the roof and shine directly where I am, I'm looking out to the scenery around me. It's turning again, into the season I have seen only once before in this country, and only briefly. There's a breeze on this 70 degree day and there are stray, unplanned tiny flowers blooming in the yard. It's clear across the valley, but not as clear as I have seen it before. I'm just happy that the temperatures have been higher so that people don't have to start fires and continue to build walls of smog.
People are hanging clothes back out on their lines instead of finding places and ways to hang them away from the wet and the cold. Trees are starting to come alive again with small buds daring to greet the real beginning of Spring. I can now say I have survived a very mild winter in this second country I call home. Keeping warm with wood and coal for the first time in my life was an endeavor, and an educator.
We wait patiently for the day that ice cream is back on the streets again and T-shirts and flip-flops can be worn again in town. I hear more birds tweeting and fluttering instead of just those nasty old crows that caw and never seem to go anywhere else. It's a beautiful Saturday here, we have nowhere urgent to be and I am simply waiting on the sun to poke it's head just around the edge of the roof.
Spring is a good season.
All to God
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