The air is warm and still this morning. The grass is greening. All around plants are on the verge of the annual coming out party. The trees have just a touch of that spring green fuzz at their tips. The stalks of bushes are starting to bulge. The buds that set last fall are getting bigger. My aunt said they have tomato plants with four leaves already.
The air is warm and still this morning. The frisky squirrels race ‘round and ‘round the trees, up and down. The birds are singing and calling and searching for worms in the still damp ground. From time to time one will fly from point to point, here to there, bush to fence, inspecting things – or maybe just because it can’t stay on the ground on a morning like this.
The air is warm and still this morning. The clouds move ever so slightly as the sun rays do their best to peek through them to light the scene. With it being this warm you wonder if it will lead to another spring storm, with the fierce winds that come from cold air that doesn’t want to give up its hold yet. But there’s no sign of that now in the closeness of the air on your skin.
The air is warm and still this morning. All the pots where flowers will be later look so empty. The temptation to fill them is strong, but you know, not yet. You can look around and see that spring is definitely knocking on the door. But we don’t open the door yet and invite our long awaited friend in, not yet, because we know that winter isn’t quite packed and ready to go.
The air is warm and still this morning. We are all waiting.