Little blooms of sunshine have been springing up for a couple of weeks already. These little yellow flowers are usually the very first flowers here. (Wikispecies lists so many English names that I don't know what to pick.)
Crocuses peek out of the lawn in front of our house.
"Snowbells" (snowdrops?) grow among the dead-looking branches: a promise of more to come. Not more snow, I hope. More flowers. More green leaves. More growth.
My blue favourites are also already here. From Wikispecies, I found out it has three names in English:kidneywort, liverwort and pennywort. I know I have no right to criticize the language of other people, but these names strike me as rather odd - kidneywort and liverwort sound more like some kind of diseases than a pretty flower...?
|A part of my favourite walking route|
Hope springs, too, with the spring coming back in my steps. I'm back to walking and trying to run at intervals, too. The ankle does not hurt so much any more, though there's sometimes pain afterwards. But better to train and have some pain than not to train and not get better either.
Another sign of spring in our home is my son's birthday. Junior Bookworm is now 9 years old. He was born on Easter Sunday, ten days past the due date, by C-section after a drawn-out delivery. I'm sure there's a lesson, a parable, a powerful message there, but I can't quite put it into words yet. Maybe that's because it is his story, after all, and it is still in progress.
Thanks for these years, son. It's a privilege to know the person you are and the person you are becoming, and the unfolding of your story.
Thank you, God, for all things that spring up, and grow, and bloom, and bear fruit.
Thank you for those things, too, that die so that new life can grow.