Spring is creeping up on Seattle, slowly and colorfully. Every time I walk past a rosemary bush I let some run through my hands, so I can have the savory, homey smell with me as I walk. The same goes with a lavender plant -- the dusky, nostalgic scent mixes with rosemary and I smell of the Northwest.
Today I reached up to touch the brand new yellow green maple leaves on the trees. They are so light, so smooth, so different from their precedesors' departure as crinkly, bright or muddied colors, easy to shake loose. These newcomers emerge with almost shy vulnerability, ready to grow into the confident greens of summer shade. I cannot quell my proclivity for rejoicing at spring's abundant treasures.
I stop every time I pass a certain pink flower, Daphne I believe, to stoop low and inhale their sweet gardenia and lily like fragrance. Every time I pass by I must smell them, grocery in hand, baby in tow, rain heavy in the clouds -- I know these flowers will not last, so I must absorb their scent into my memory while I can.
This is only my second Seattle spring, and I am trying to drink it all in, and even love the rain that makes all the new life possible so early in the year. Tulips, iris, daffodils, cherry blossoms, and the hints of buds on my lilac trees outside all make the wet weather bright with color, and the sunny days even more joyful.
I still need to dig in dirt, hold a worm, squirming and wriggling in my hand, watch him work himself back into the dirt. Perhaps it is the latent gardener gene in me, or my childhood of catching frogs, but my hands seek to touch, to hold, to recognize shared life with the earth as it breathes it out anew.
Get outside and enjoy yourselves!
