Thursday, January 28, 2010

Five minutes

One-thirty Wednesday afternoon. I sat in the front room reading; that's where the light is best and my favorite blanket resides. The front windows were open to a dull gray afternoon sky, my book lie open to a dull page of history, my eyes were slowly sinking as I tried to rationalize just a 5 minute nap.

I'm cold, maybe if I put the blanket over my head I'll warm up faster; just 5 minutes. Still cold but half sleeping, just 5 minutes. I'm feeling floaty now, must be sleeping; I pull the blanket closer, 5 minutes more.

I am suddenly racked with the shivers as I am startled awake: the room brightened suddenly. Had someone come in while I slept and turned on the lights? Were the kids home from school already? Had my five minutes already come and passed an hour ago? My eyes flashed to the silver clock resting on the bookshelf and then to the source of the bright light that had drawn me violently from my rest. One-fourty-five on the clock. Bright light from the window. Could it be?

The stream of light bursting into my living room and washing over my squinting face: sun! The clouds have parted. There's blue up there! I walk to the window and let the light warm me as I look out on the sunbathed neighborhood. The half dead lawn looks somehow alive. A new leaf--from winters forgotten bulbs--springs up through the dark earth. Green buds dance upon the ends of the crab apple tree.

Winter has only just begun yet I see signs of Spring in every glance. I had forgotten how beautiful these wooded hills could be; how refreshing they are. I don't want a nap now, I need sun.
The Rhubarb peeks out a ruby red stalk tip hoping those warming rays are meant for it.

The anxious chives show that they are willing to work. Through the matting of last years forgotten clutter they spring.

The Sedum proves he is a resilient chap as he beckons the Tulips beneath to join him.

The Clematis too is ready for a fresh new start.

The buds of the Viburnum have patiently waited all winter for their chance. They whiten in preparation to burst wide open and fill the yard with their faint sweet scent.

The wisteria pleads as it reaches out,
"Five minutes, please, just five more minutes of this glorious winter sun!"

1 comment:

  1. Love the photos of the coming spring.

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