Finally, spring. I feel more awake to the seasons in this house than anywhere, ever, before. There's something about it that is magic to me. I'm always thinking I want to be closer to town. And then, I take a walk outside, just in our yard. And it fills my cup.
There's the light, and the landscape--
The swallows (tree swallows?) are impossible to capture, like tiny kites in a strong wind. They have white bellies, and I believe some nest in our eaves. The zoom around the yard, very low, and Ifelt and heard one zipping past my head like a bullet. Or, if you lie in the grass, you can see them high above in swarms of twenty or thirty against the blue.
Another close flyer, you can hear them humming and buzzing as the swoop toward you and then away, over and over. Finally caught one with the fancy whatchamacallit lense my dad loaned me (sorry, Dad--telephoto?) I think it's a rufous hummingbird. They're like rubies. Stunning.
The most reliable harbingers of spring in the flora realm were the last to show.
And the native camas.
And as for fauna--ours is a never ending, never repeating, cycle.
I look at her, and I can't believe that she is. That she is so much herself. Always makes me think of this poem. A year ago, she was this baby:
And a year before:
Everyday she changes so much, it's hard to remember ago that three years ago, she was in my belly. Now, she's not a baby. As she says, "I'm a girl!"
My beautiful girl. My funny girl.
She is my constant reminder to embrace life.