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I haven't written enough about the spring this year.
Several times in the past few days, the sudden green has startled me. I look up from my computer screen to glance around the room and there's this scene that should be a picture of the South. Not something right outside my window. Not just a few steps outside my door. It's this green, luscious mass of trees that are suddenly alive. The green is in layers.
Yeah, it catches me completely off-guard. And then it makes me stare, like the climax of a classic movie that stops you as you walk through the room to get a drink of water. And then twenty minutes later, you realize you have homework you were actively engaged in just moments before. But you're standing behind the couch, your finger lightly touching the angles of the upholstery.
Yeah. Like that. Only with the most amazing, vivid infusion of color I haven't seen in months. So this is what I've craved all winter. And it's so silent.
Several times in the past few days, the sudden green has startled me. I look up from my computer screen to glance around the room and there's this scene that should be a picture of the South. Not something right outside my window. Not just a few steps outside my door. It's this green, luscious mass of trees that are suddenly alive. The green is in layers.
Yeah, it catches me completely off-guard. And then it makes me stare, like the climax of a classic movie that stops you as you walk through the room to get a drink of water. And then twenty minutes later, you realize you have homework you were actively engaged in just moments before. But you're standing behind the couch, your finger lightly touching the angles of the upholstery.
Yeah. Like that. Only with the most amazing, vivid infusion of color I haven't seen in months. So this is what I've craved all winter. And it's so silent.
