Spring Is The Season of Eternal Hope

Mom died over two months ago. Dad has been gone for two years. I will be 59 in 7 weeks and my back aches a little this morning. Thoughts of mortality and oncoming old age permeate my thinking this morning. Yet, I am not in a bad mood. I am not in a bad place. Jane is editing two of my e-books that should be published in the next month. I saw a brave little hermit thrush bouncing across the front lawn yesterday. I watched a wood thrush perch in the red maple in the back yard this morning. Not too far away the ruby crown kinglet was searching for breakfast. The robins are worm-hunting. The juncos are thick, and the male cardinals are setting up their territories. The house finches already have nested and are laying eggs. It has been a late spring. We had 5 inches of snow two days ago and a doe had run between the houses, the tracks indicating the need to forage and find food to survive this very late spring. But spring is here. It uplifts the spirits. This is that yearly gift from God, that season of renewal. There is nothing like it. I am rather enjoying it.