How life can change on the beat of the wings of a bird, the drawing of a breath.
The snow has all but left us. Small patches of white remain, yet to melt into the earth. The soil below stretches up to the sun which is now shining upon us, warming the branches of the trees, preparing the ground for the spring flowers that will push through the dirt and smile at the sky.
As if the humans themselves have been hibernating, the streets are becoming busy again, faces smiling or determined, with long lists of chores and requirements that have been happily foregone over the snowed in days.
The temperatures have risen, the air clement enough to see people out without hats, scarves and thermal wrappings.
Snow boots are all but abandoned as fashion dictates our footwear now, at last.
Clothing choices are made by what we want and not what is most appropriate for the freezing conditions.
Rain has fallen on the garden and now the previously frozen ground is sodden and welcoming to sinking footprints.
For a while longer, at least, the grass and shrubs will remain strangers to my visitations.
Meteorologists have warned of further flurries and drifts to come, more turmoil and chaos to visit upon the Earth, or at least this currently green and pleasant bit. Foreboding messages of doom that it isn’t over yet – and we haven’t even got to February when the weather normally descends into panic.
A new year, new butterfly wings have rout new effects, new horizons open ahead, Mother Nature rises before us.
All is good.
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