It has been raining all week here in Jolly Olde and
though it makes walks to work a bit of a pain (and wholly worthy of the Hunter
Wellies), there is something magnificent about it too. When the rain clears,
because it always does here, and the sun shines for a brief moment, again,
because it always does and it is undoubtedly only for a mere moment; when the
sky turns an evil shade of gray and the clouds roll in the sky with vigour; it
is in these brief glimpses of time that the world comes alive.
There are patches of sky that are bright September blue; I see bursts of green, sprung from leaves that simply were not there
earlier in the day; I pass buds near-exploding with rich colour and potential,
fat and ready. The best part are the blossoms: they're pink and white, vibrant
and fluffy. I want to cut off branches and fill my house with scads of
blossoms...somehow I resist.
Yes, spring certainly is a phenomenal time of year.
Reminds me of just how alive we all are.
No comments:
Post a Comment