Spring Progresses

It's no longer early spring.

When I awoke this morning and as I left the house at noon, I was surrounded by the sound of lawnmowers, and not for the first time. The recent rains and the sunny weather has the grass growing so quickly it feels like one barely finishes mowing the lawn and it is time to repeat.

I feel quite blessed that I don't have to mow my own lawn. I need to find some way to express my appreciation for those who do bear that responsiblity and do it so well!

Besides the wildly growing grass, there are the trees with their full cloaks of leaves adding color and motion to the view at every turn (and sometimes restricting the view). And the shower of helicopter pods on my drive home the other night felt almost magical--the way they surrounded me on every side, spinning and dancing as they fell.

But the progression of spring has its sad aspects. Outside my office window is a bed of bushes edged by red tulips amid yellow pansies. In the last two days, the tulips have finished blooming and have been losing their petals. Even as the receiving dock is strewn with their bruised red sheddings, the stark green stalks, still standing valiantly, look lonely and lost.