Walking out to the curb with the trash bin, I see that the birch has sprung wholly to life. As if it happened overnight, the leaves are a rich, dense green. The little bit of wind today turns the whole dang thing into a song and now I feel a little bit like dancing. Well, maybe not exactly like that, but I do recognize how change comes over my world … slowly, slowly, then all at once.
Sunday, I walked the refuge. Spring came in hot there too. The fields are overgrown and the ponds have a light, white coating of cottonwood. The birdsong is loud, almost raucous, but I spotted very few of my feathered friends in the trees. Stepping onto the wood planks of the estuary boardwalk, time seems to stand still. I send a friend a photo and she writes back that it looks like an historical image. It could have been 1923 or 2023. Just another thing I love about this place. Reflections of a different time.
Spring has sprung in the Puyallup Valley too. Just 30 minutes from me is this field of lupine. I took a walk before I started my day and I wasn’t disappointed. Common yellow-throats, white-crowned sparrows and sweet little Savannah sparrows balancing on the swaying twigs. In another week this field should be in full bloom. A sea of purple.
So much to love here. And so I do.