The green begins slow, like someone waking up after a long nap.
It spreads subtly across the forest at first: the tiniest leaves spangling the understory.
But then the grass on the lawn grows long.
The wood moss puts out furry wands tipped with tiny capsules of new life.
As for me, I go out to the back yard and cut down an armful of forsythia blooms. I bring the long stems inside, and stuff them in my great-grandmother’s blue Ball jars. Suddenly, every corner of our tiny cottage is filled with the color and scent of sunshine, green things, growing things… Life:
I rest, and say It Is Good. ❤