March winds are cold in Northern Ohio along the lower edge of Lake Erie. All of Ohio south of us warms up sooner than we do. Tree buds burst and blossom and grasses turn green about three weeks ahead of us every year.
I look for spring.
Not as in obsessing when the morning brings more frost
or when tree limbs stay brown and bare.
No. I watch as the sun gets up earlier
and pushes apart the cottony skies of soft oranges and lavenders and pinks
and says good night later in the day.
I wait to breathe balmy air
and wear lighter clothes to walk.
I listen to the birds chatter throughout the morning
and watch for the first haze of ochres and deep reds,
the pregnant state of the willows and maple trees.
I know it’s coming — the promise of spring.
And I wonder.
What will the spring awaken in me?
Will I imagine more?
Paint and write and tell stories more?
Will ideas gestate and bud, first hazy but full of color and promise,
filling me with renewed purpose
For another season…?
It is my plan — as I look for Spring.
Chris Brogan says There is beauty in simple stories. I agree, so I wrote a simple story…
And today the story is a word painting.
How do you look for spring? Is it a renewal for you? Maybe it’s a call to clean? (More about that later this week.)
Let’s talk (to borrow a phrase from my friend Liz Strauss). Over fresh piping hot coffee. Help yourself.