Where Have I Gone… Sunday Drive

Suddenly, Spring!

I felt as though we had been hibernating this long winter when alas we found warmth.  The Daffodils are in bloom, the dogwoods and the catkins on the live oaks, drape gracefully from the ends of their branches.  Soon, these will cover my deck, roof, driveway like a huge hairy mess and along with it, a coating of green pollen.   Even the lake will carry a fine film of it.

 

Hello Spring! Thou art a cruel and heartless wench! While a beauty without compare, beneath lies nought but poison. Sniff! sniff! sneeze!

I rushed to pull warm weather clothes from storage and packed away our winter things.  Donning cutoffs,  T’s and sandals, we busied ourselves with outside chores.  We chopped away the overgrowth at our widowed neighbors home  and began pulling up and replacing boards on our deck.  Unwilling to leave this beautiful 85° day, I found myself content to stretch out on a bench and ponder the sun’s warm embrace on my bone white skin. it made me blush….shoulders, checks and nose.

But, of course I have “my” luck so the morning brought an odd surprise.  Opening the door to let the dogs out, rain and SNOW!  Snow on my car, the roof, slush on the porch and winter clothes packed away in the garage!  Luckily, I found a single sweater that I could wear to church and we made our way.  By the time church let out, it was spring again!

A quick trip back to the house to shuck stifling sweater for shorts then off again for a Sunday drive.  We drove the countryside like we had when we were  children with our parents, without direction, rush or purpose, just taking it in.   We marveled at the fertile farmland, already a lush green, the play of sun and shadow over hill, vale and flowering trees.  The spring calves are on the ground.

The golden hour usually makes me feel deep sadness, I don’t know why but today, It reminded me of a poem I love.

The little cares that fretted me,
I lost them yesterday
Among the fields above the sea,
Among the winds that play,
Among the lowing of the herd,
The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing of the birds,
The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what might pass
I cast them all away
Among the clover-scented grass,
Among the new-mown hay,
Among the hushing of the corn,
Where drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born —
Out in the fields with God.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 

 

 

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