REALITY?: Sunday

A drive down by the river gushing on its way through bends of wood.  The trees and bushes blushing with the thought of spring, pale shades of what they hope to be.  The willow lemon yellow, the maples pink, the lilacs baby green.  And some impatient with the nights burst forth with tears of petals.  White powderpuffs of chokecherry, yellow sprays of forsythia, pulsing purple buds of the magnolias.  And singing choruses of brightly flashing birds.

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2 Responses to REALITY?: Sunday

  1. Roberta S says:

    Lovely, lovely. I laugh because every day the tame honeybees in a field nearby send out a scout or two to see what is happening at the Mayday tree in front of my kitchen window. They seem more impatient this year…almost frantic that they may miss the short blossoming season of their favorite tree.

    I particularly like the line you coined about the ‘trees and blossoms blushing…pale shades of what they hope to be.”

  2. susan says:

    Thanks! I love this particular route to the grocery store because it runs through a small village and along the Farmington River. Lots to inspire such thoughts.

    I think more than just the bees are confused this year. I have no clue whether to weed or shovel.

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