It was definitely pretty springy yesterday, with temperatures in the mid-fifties and a very clear, very blue sky. Last fall’s leaves emerged from the snow, crunched and withered where they fell, and the birds sang from all directions.
Spring is inevitable, no matter how unlikely it might seem. No matter the gloom, spring is inevitable.
Sometimes it might take a while.
I’m not exactly what you’d call an optimist. I like to think of myself as pragmatic; some might see my pragmatism as pessimism.
So be it.
But there’s something about finding a tiny clump of what I assume are crocuses, bravely ready to be the first, even if no other flowers, not even daffodils, are considering poking up their tentative little heads. There’s something about the rhythm of nature, of its impermanence, that reminds you that things are temporary.
One tiny clump of crocuses is all you need.
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