After Daylight Savings Time begins, my mood sometimes takes a turn for the better. Although the cold is a welcome break from the oppressive heat here in the U.S. South, Spring is a welcome time. The season doesn’t carry the humidity of Summer or the lingering warmth of Fall.
Across the yard, the neighbor’s trees (I don’t know the species) are in full bloom with white and pink and purple flowers. In the backyard, the almond, apple, and pear trees are waking up with leaves just beginning to form. The Earth itself wakes up to the sound of chirping birds and wind rustling through new plant life.
Each year is something new, a fact I have to remind myself of. If I hadn’t lived until now, I wouldn’t have seen any of this. I wouldn’t have been able to walk past things I’ve planted with my own hands.
It’s the quiet moments which are often the most profound. They exist without caring if anyone notices them. Whenever I catch a glimpse of what might be one, I try to remember the experience. I’m rarely successful. But I’ll keep trying for now.