This is…spring? It could be Sheila’s Brush, the traditional snow following Saint Patrick’s Day, but it landed two days early. After silence, the birds return. In this particular rite of spring, it’s not the hesitancy of Stravinsky’s woodwinds that fill my ears, but rather the sound of eagles wheeling across the sky; the hoarse whistle of a red-tailed hawk, and the hunting calls of owls. Even though, technically, it’s still winter, spring is on the land.
This line is wonderful: "These general stories mix a dash of hippie with a smattering of yuppie and end up with something fairly funky." Poetic and rhythmic. Nice!
Thank you, Renato. I really appreciate hearing that. I have no idea where the idea writing springs from within me; it just comes to me. Thank you for reading.
Spring ephemerals !
Spring epiphanies!
http://versicolor.ca/nswfsOLDsite/docs/articles/springephemerals/index.html
Ah, lovely. Thanks for sending this along.
This line is wonderful: "These general stories mix a dash of hippie with a smattering of yuppie and end up with something fairly funky." Poetic and rhythmic. Nice!
Thank you, Renato. I really appreciate hearing that. I have no idea where the idea writing springs from within me; it just comes to me. Thank you for reading.
Lyrical and lovely reflections on spring, Charles.
I think I'd beat you at cribbage though. F
Thank you, Frank. And...challenge accepted (although you probably would beat me; I'm a notoriously poor cribbage player as Steph will tell you.
I love the optimism in this post.
Thank you, Ken. Lots to be optimistic about these days.