Spring is a season of surprises. Familiar paths, long brown and empty, suddenly contain the beauty of blossoms, frog songs and bright green leaves.
Some of the beauty, and emerging beauty, I have noticed these past few days:
I stood outside in the backyard, chatting with Drew and glanced down to see the bleeding hearts shooting up, opening their leaves. It made me smile to know their pink, heart-shaped flowers would soon fill my window.
I walked outside the garage door and recognized the rhubarb leaves growing in the garden space beside the driveway. I planted the stalks last year, not knowing if they would come back again. (I’d heard rhubarb is hard to transplant.) My tastebuds are already imagining the rhubarb bread I’ll bake in the coming weeks.
During ordinary drives, I’ve seen flowering magnolia trees, birches putting out leaves of bright spring green, and weeping willows with their yellow tresses swaying.
Last year’s cattails are dotted with red-winged blackbirds who balance on top of their stalks, and filled with the sounds of frogs singing.
I find myself wanting to sing, too.
What is it about beauty that calls a song from our mouth and creates joy in our heart?