How it came into being...
The Winter Thaw Has Begun in Lemuria
February lays down footprints.
Although at first I did not believe it, things really do begin to change in February. It is a very behind the scenes change but the season is shifting. You have to be a little like a spy to discover it. And it comes in little unexpected surprises. Like today when I walked out to my Lemuria and found an overturned pot that I had forgotten in last autumnís scurry to get all that was not to freeze inside.
And there beneath this over turned pot, half in the ground and half out of the ground, were some bulbs, and they were sprouting! I could not help but drop all, just to wonder how in the world they could have survived the severity of winter, half exposed and naked as they were. I gathered them up into my apron skirt to take inside, to warm in the window and to watch them grow.
But not before I walked past the clothes line where the Snowdrops grow, and I thought it foolish to look, but I did anyway. I gasped when I saw rising, little green sprigs, of the most courageous of all flowers, the Snowdrop, showing! Rising! Green leaves of the Snowdrop rising!
And the skunks are prancing. Hubby has been catching them stealing his bees, and I see their wobbly black and white wanderings through the cornfield, their scent fills the air when you travel down the roads.
There are days now when the honeybees make cleansing flights. The temperatures near the upper 30ís, while still freezing at night, so the sap is flowing in the trees. Sometimes I watch the sun set and I fancy that I can hear this sap. The sunsets have been spectacular by the way, and I keep seeing prisms and rainbows in the sky. I donít remember ever seeing such things in the sky as we do now.
The birds are singing more and sometimes I catch them chattering, arguing over where their nests are going to be. But the thing that filled me with the most joy was hearing the Screech owl make his mating call this evening. I was watching the sun go down in a blaze of red on a purple-mauve sky, when I heard that special little trill of his. Like the strum on an instrument, playing a cord to my heart, which pulls it taunt then releases it, but not quite. He called from the Blue Spruce tree so I know that he has returned from his winter home and is here for the spring and summer with us, as has been his habit in seasons past.
Yes February is leaving her footprints.
Trendle Ellwood 2004