Spring is here with all its tease and impending promise.
Beyond the whistle of the late March blizzard, one can feel it. Hear it. Even the snow now falls slower, quieter, laden with the promise of a quick melt. The chickadees chirp louder, with more persistence, with a familiarity born of eight long months of winter feeding and...their newfound longing to mate. In the evenings, at times a grouse drums in the forest.
On sunny days, the sun rises earlier and travels higher and kisses warmer. The robins and the geese are yet to arrive, but we imagine them. They will come—soon. Expectations.
Spring—that time of year when life opens. When the future is more imminent than ever. Spring, when graduations happen, careers are chosen, love is consummated and new life is conceived. When one is rejuvenated, inspired, preparing. Learning.
I’m old. My careers have ended. Love is listless. My children are now the restless parents and my bucket list is terrifyingly short. All that’s on the horizon is another summer, a bout of gout. Another realization that one more summer sport must be put aside.
I foresee one more adventure becoming nothing but a virtual campfire dream.
Spring—what do you wish me to do? What new and amazing and intriguing things are you promising? Riding in on your warm breezes is a renewed passion for...what? What new truths are streaming in your rays, hitting my face, filling an eager mind with wonder?
|What spring looks like where I live|
I feel the power of your potential, but Spring, exactly what are you promising this old lady?
Spring Promises has been brought to you by the BackTracker Series. At 15 she ratted out The Traz biker gang. She'll be endangered forever.