We made it. We survived the long, dark, cold, seemingly endless winter. Although, this weekend has been rather late-wintery seeming. The infamous Pacific Northwest low, dark clouds and rain. Cold rain. I wore a scarf yesterday. In the middle of May. I was not pleased. The sun is peeking through today. We still have to get through our annual June gloom. Ah, but July 5th is less than two months away! (Tradition has it, after the 4th of July holiday, the idyllic weather starts.)
In any case, it is spring, and everything is green and vibrant, yet again. Even with the rain. The rhododendrons are extra fluffy and colorful this year, I’m guessing due to all that fall and winter rain. They are one of my favorite plants, native to the Northwest. In the forest, near Mt. Hood, you can see them all around.
The armies of ants have returned to their posts, the cracks in the sidewalk and the path alongside my house. We are engaging in our yearly battle. The flies zoom around like confused fighter pilots. They have an entire world out there to buzz around. Why do they choose my little, tiny bungalow?
Many blogs ago, I wrote several odes to the tall, old tree, which watches over my backyard. I thought those entries were some of my best pieces, almost poetic, a rarity for me. Alas, I had to delete that blog for ridiculous reasons. Yesterday, I glanced up at the sky from my window, and noticed the tree is becoming lush and green again, as it does year after year. The Spring Tree. So, why not start a new series of odes to the seasonal transformations of that beautiful, old tree. A pillar of certainty in an uncertain world. My steady friend, watching over me, listening to me, providing a shady spot on hot, summer afternoons. They’ll be here before we know it. Nice to see you again.