I saw the first Robin the other day, and even though I see them throughout the winter here, my mind, of its own accord, wandered into spring.
It’s still cold here in my corner of Oregon; the daytime temperature reaching 50 degrees on a good day, but spring is afoot.
Blossoms, grown fat and ripe in these milder days of winter’s last hurrah, are eager to burst.
The bees are beginning to make furtive excursions into the wide world, between advancing rain showers.
Broody hens are snuggling their first clutches of the season; little peeps can be heard through the feathers of an ever vigilant mama or two. Lambs with their tiny bleats are seen gamboling through the pasture, their leaps and bounds, a testimony to joy.
The days, too, are changing, growing longer; the light strengthening, as the sun slowly creeps back to its summery path.
I wonder at the new blades of grass, the new leaf growth on the rose bushes. How do they know?
How does the earth know to wake up and bring the promise of new life to fruition?
Some would call it evolution. I would call it Divine.
Within us, each and every one of us, are the workings of intricate patterns and designs; gifts of the Master Planner.
Each seed, each blade of grass and swelling bud are exclamations of divinity, beckoning us to examine ourselves and our world just a little closer; patiently waiting for us to recognize our own eternal progression.
There are no accidents as some might suggest; we are where we are for His purposes. We cherish spring; as a new awakening of our divine destiny, a herald of miracles yet unborn.
Yes, spring is afoot; soon, it will be time to plant and tend the garden, sheer the sheep and putter in the chicken coop; until then, I’ll enjoy my hot cocoa and my book a few days longer; pondering eternity as I do.
16 hours ago