Day 85

A blustery day of freezing gales.

High winds and a blizzard on Cape Cod, although the snowstorm sailed right past us this time.

Driving down to school I noticed all the leaves dancing.  Around every corner was a new celebration, all the ancient leaves of brown and russet, which had been lying under their winter blanket of snow, woke from their long sleep to shimmy and spin in the crazy currents of air.  These rusty grandmothers and skeletal grandfathers whirled and fluttered, glistened in the shining sun, spumed like water-spouts then fell about gleefully.

And deep inside the trees, and just under the soil's surface, the green listened, spoke to the pink and white, told the babies, the new generation who are about to blossom, that their grandparents were dancing for them, the dance of spring, listen.......listen.........

The dance of Spring

The man-made thing is this drawing by me.  A woman-made thing, in fact.  And the colours did not come out very well in the photograph.  Much of the white is spring-green.  You will just have to imagine the green, just as we are doing right now, waiting for those buds to plume forth!