I know that it is still early in the year to be looking for spring. But I hear it calling. I see it coming. Every day the sun rises earlier and sets later. Mist hangs more gently in the valley. The wind has a definite softness to it, the sharp bite of ice is gone.
Everywhere we look we see jonquils and daffodils, some lining the former paths of houses long gone, some planted only recently on new ground. How forgiving and generous these yellow flowers are. They pop up in ditches and fence rows where they have been pushed aside by huge machines that weren't able to crush their plucky spirit. Hooray, they seem to say. Here's the sun. Here is our time to bloom and smile and lend some hope to a winter-weary world.
Don't you know that long ago, when farm wives and early settlers saw these signs of spring-to-come, they smiled and felt a lifting of their spirits. The long and dark days of winter are almost over. The rains will come and the land turn green. The birds will build their nests in high and arching trees. The redbud will brighten the hills and the dogwood will bless the valleys with sweet blossoms.
Spring is calling. And soon it will be here.
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