Alive and Well

Yeesh, has it been that long since I blogged anything?

Since last I posted, spring has sprung, much of my energy has returned, and I've had absolutely nothing to say. Well that last part may not be entirely true. Perhaps I had too much to say, and no words sufficient to express it.

The passing of Terri Schiavo made me very sad and meditative. There didn't seem to be anything I could add to the discussion, so I remained mostly silent. I just grieved for this poor woman, that she has endured so much over the last number of years since she was first stricken. The whole tragedy was Shakespearian in proportion, and every angle of it wrenched a different part of my heart. I have no conclusions to offer, just deepest sympathies for Terri, her family, and all involved, even Michael Schiavo. He has to live with himself for a while to come yet, besides all the fallout. I've said elsewhere that I am not sympathetic to him, and this is true. But I do believe that if it was freedom he was seeking (and I don't know that beyond speculation), how terribly has this all backfired on him? He created a living hell on earth for himself. I'm sure he never bargained for it. But that is enough and all I mean to write on the subject. Rather than pick it all apart again, I feel it's time to continue to quietly and prayerfully examine our own hearts and minds about it, so that's what I'm doing.

On the lighter side of things, I'm feeling well, and I'm thankful for that. Spring couldn't have come a minute too soon for me, it's done wonders for my mood and energy. Each day I take a little walk around the yard to see what's poking up through the good earth: hyacinths, lupines, catmint, foxgloves and even the tiger lilies are starting poke their little green leaves up through the dirt. A few bold and enterprising Johnny-jump-ups have even started blooming, almost despite chilly evening temperatures that still hover around freezing.

The Geese are back too. Early every morning they fly right past our bedroom window with a great cacophony of honking. Who needs a snooze alarm with these guys around? I love them, and every year I look forward to hearing that sound. The peepers are back too, and they're peeping to beat the band every night when the sun begins to set. Even with the doors and windows closed we can hear their high-pitched steady peeps. There must be thousands of them out there in the brook out back. At least it sounds like thousands, or more.

I haven't wanted to miss one single nuance of spring, so much so that I've put other things, other pursuits aside. Frequently I find myself holding still, waiting for the sounds, the sights and the smells of spring - just standing and breathing in the smell of warm dirt and the scent of things growing, of sap running in the trees. I've no flowers to smell yet, no freshly mown grass, but the rich earth itself is intoxicating on a warm sunny day.

So it's been a time for observance of all things for me, of being quiet and watching for things about to be.