Forsythia

I walked by a forsythia bush beginning to bloom this afternoon.  It was already raining and the wind was SO cold and then I walked by those little sketches of yellow against a fence and I thought, OK, we're finally beginning spring.  Do you have those personal signposts for the seasons?  A friend of mine says she believes it's spring when she hears (or sees) the first tree swallows.  For me, it's the forsythia -- though the daffodils I saw just a block away were pretty convincing, too!  (It's one thing to see a bunch of daffodils for sale at Safeway -- and yes I DID buy them -- but another when they're actually emerging from the dirt in my own neighborhood!)

I remembered playing Sarah in the play J.B. a kajillion years ago, and after all that "curse God and die" business I got to come back at the end of the play and show Job that the forsythia is blooming again -- a little redemption.  And I also thought about e.e. cummings' wonderful poem "O sweet spontaneous / earth" (found here).  Even in the midst of the drear and rain and cold, it's such a relief to see spring emerging once again.

Whether you wake up to rain or snow or stillness, may you experience spring tomorrow.