March 16th. The garden changes quickly now. Robins show up more often. I watch them pull worms from moist earth and wonder where they'll nest this year. Carolina wrens sing long, pure, sweet melodies, except when I get close. Then they quickly turn to angry buzzing at my intrusion. I'm used to it, and I laugh.
My world is full of spring things, and I walked slow with eyes and ears wide open. I rarely pass a pinecone without stopping to admire its every miraculous whorl, and Gracie knew to sit and wait without being told. But beyond the cones, the stark white columns and railing, very recently hidden behind an old magnolia, glared. At long last, we made the difficult decision to remove the overgrown spring-bloomer; and while I miss it, I do look forward to shopping for a pretty, more appropriately sized replacement. I pondered the possibilities before walking on, down the road this time, where what's left of the blue spicebush berries cling on bare branches — for now.
I stand in awe of creation.
Sweet capture.