Ah, Spring

Yesterday at the cabin rained, and it rained really hard in the morning. It was dark and gloomy and the fog descended until it looked like November except for the daffodils! There they were, bright spots of gold in the gloom, cheery with the promise of spring. I found a raincoat and headed out with my camera to snap some early spring, Easter photos. By 4 o'clock in the afternoon the sun was out and it had turned into a very nice day.
Today was lovely. The sun shone and the birds chirped. Everything is growing. The cherry out front is a little past perfect, but still is lovely and it smells wonderfully. The daffodils are in full bloom, the Camellia is starting to bloom and the bridal veil along side the house is perfect. I spend a happy hour at the local nursery today and found a few things for the yard and some starts for an empty pot out back. I even found an angelica plant. I had one when we lived in Shoreline but not since, and they are quite pretty in the summer and add some nice height to the back of the border. So, one of those is now planted out back in a sunny spot by the fountain. I love spring. I can't fill my lungs deep enough with air. I even love the smell of freshly turned soil. It has such promise.

I finally got my ArtFest ATC trades done. It's taken way too much time and they aren't very fancy this year, but they are hand stamped from hand carved blocks and that's all I've had time for. I rather like the look---peaceful and quiet, like a walk in the woods, which is the theme this year, after all. I don't think I'll have any time to do much more. Bee comes on Sunday, LK on Monday and on Tuesday next we all go over to Port Townsend. I can't wait for ArtFest!

And now, more spring from my garden.

Moccasin Flowers

All my life,
so far,
I have
loved
more than one thing,

including the mossy hooves
of
dreams, including
the spongy litter
under the tall trees.

In
spring
the moccasin flowers
reach for the crackling
lick of the
sun

and burn down. Sometimes,
in the shadows,
I see
the hazy eyes,
the lamb-lips

of oblivion,
its deep
drowse,
and I can imagine a new nothing
in the universe,

the
matted leaves splitting
open, revealing
the black planks
of the
stairs.

but all my life---sofar---
I have loved best
how the
flowers rise
and open, how

the pink lungs of their
bodies
enter the fore of the world
and stand there shining
and
willing---the one

thing they can do before
they shuffle
forward
into the floor of darkness, they
become the trees.

Mary
Oliver