I miss Spring. It is my season afterall. There are so many things I love about Spring. I indulged myself the other day and listed all the things I love about Spring. Not surprisingly those things have changed over the course of my life. As a child it was the anticipation of Easter, the bunny's visit, and the basket full of goodies. In my youth, it was the thrill of wearing new shorts and tee's after a winter of turtlenecks, sweaters, and courderoys. It was, well, the thrill of being able to bare more skin, for the warmth of the sun. In my young adult life, it was the renewal of the flowers and the color around me. And now, just a tick later, I realize what I miss most is the feeling I get deep down in my own roots. As if something is stirring. A little spark of energy that wants to make its way into the world and leave its mark. Rather than take heat from around me through fires, blankets, and tea, I want to feel that fire building within.
But, it's not yet time. It is the time of patience. It is the time for watching and waiting.