This morning I smelled spring in the air.
I know, it’s early – not even the Ides of January yet. But spring floated on the air, just the same. 6:45 a.m., 45 degrees F, the deck door slightly ajar. In stole the scent of spring on thin, delicate feet, tip-toeing through the forest high in the fir trees, pirouetting across the meadow, and slinking in through the narrow opening of my door.
Yes, winter could return. But the promise of the ages came into my room early this morning – the fresh, loamy aroma of LIFE waking up in the earth, of the long-dream hibernation coming to an end, of a hunger for new fruits.
Something new is afoot.
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