The Simple Life
Not given to much fuss and ado, and perhaps just a tad like the good, silent folk of Finland, Spring is shy and hesitantly unfolds itself in these parts in delicate hues – mostly unassuming and always unobtrusive.
I go to the woods buried for so long under a white stillness like an eager friend. Shafts of milky sun filter through the damp, sodden trees.
The forest trails feel springy and moist underfoot. There is a scent of trees and wet wood in the air. Dappled sunlight play among the trees where pools of dark waters sit contentedly.
A few brave calls from small feathered friends ring out on the treetops. A flash of a bushy tail darts from the corner of my eye rustling the dark green spruce. Snakes slither lazily from their hidey-holes and warm themselves luxuriously in pools of sunshine on the forest floor.
Each day a new facet of Sping emerges. A bud. A nub. A tightly furled fist of baby leaves. Furry catkins. Fields of dainty white windflowers spring up overnight.
How magical it is to see the good Earth once again. How very good to welcome yet another season of promise.
To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter; to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird’s nest or a wildflower in spring – these are some of the rewards of the simple life ~ John Burroughs