April 2010
Monday, April 5th, 2010
Ready for a taste of West Coast Spring? Enjoy!
Spring’s Wonderful Song
“I don’t believe it!” popped out of my mouth. “What a crazy place to build a nest.” I grabbed my binoculars. “What in the world?…It’s gone!” Realizing that the sparrow’s nearly completed nest had likely fallen to the ground, I strode outside to search through the salal at the base of the bare grey fir trunk. The sight of shattered chunks of mud and twigs made me shake my head. “What was it thinking? How foolish to build on a flimsy knob of branch in a completely exposed spot.”
Two Juncos zoomed by, one chasing the other, and a smile came to my lips. Spring. It surrounded me. Its subtle scent of the wet season’s mould and decaying matter not yet dissipated by the sun, mixing with the faint fragrance of the earliest flowers dotting the resurrected swath of green spikes and ovals in my garden. I licked my dry lips and tasted the tart flavour of wood smoke from my neighbour’s morning fire that stubbornly insisted on hanging in the air. Brilliantly coloured Purple Finches filled the evergreens above me, the males singing for all they were worth in hopes of attracting a mate or perhaps boasting that they’d already acquired one. A squirrel scampered energetically up one of the nearby trunks, chattering happily in the new warmth that was attempting to chase the coolness from my bare face and hands. Spring. Nature shedding the past and clothing itself in the promise of wonders to come.
Hesitating with my fingers on the light switch after supper, I glanced around our cozy living room. Shadows teased the corners of the room but the hardwood floor in the centre still sported a soft golden glow and I dropped my hand. Pushing aside the afghan sprawled across my easy chair, the comforting thought came that soon I wouldn’t need it to fend off the evening’s chill. Shafts of sunlight slashing the air between the mature firs across the street pulled my gaze out the window as I sat down. My eyes followed a beam across the paved road until it kissed the climbing rose that was draped across the chicken wire fence and vanished. Suddenly, I shot to my feet. “Why are you coming now?” You rob the feeders at night. Forget that! I dashed out the nearby door. The fat raccoon waddling across the pavement completely ignored me as I flew down the steps and driveway like a whirlwind. Then, right as it reached the fence, its beady black eyes swung to me. I stopped, watching it jump up in the air and turn around in one motion. Satisfaction swept over me when it waddled back to the culvert at the end of the driveway as fast as its short legs could carry it and dove inside. Well. Don’t be so stupid.
Look! There’s a hummingbird!” my husband exclaimed the next evening.
My face snapped toward the window. Shifting slightly in my easy chair, I honed in on the dazzling green jewel hovering near the right corner. It moved slowly sideway along the glass looking inside at us and I chuckled. “Okay little scout. I see you’re back. I’ll get your food made and fill the feeders tomorrow.” Anticipation stirred at the tiny minute acrobat’s unspoken promise of our five resident families return from their southern vacation.
“It sure feels like spring,” I remarked to my husband, stepping out of the car at the grocery store the following morning. The shimmering sunlight seemed foreign to my eyes after the rainy season and I blinked. Its warming rays began to seep through my black fleecy as Allan clasped my hand and it was almost too warm by the time I was approaching the entrance. The newly displayed flats of small green plants there caught my eye for a second, and then, the heavy automatic glass doors slid open. Bouquets of Daffodils and Tulips. Potted Lillies and Hyacinths. Chocolate bunnies, stuffed chicks, and candy eggs. Hot Cross Buns. My heart sung! Signs of Spring. Signs that point to Jesus! Sweet-spicy buns with crosses, reminding that He died so that we might live in intimate relationship with God. Bulbs once dead and now in flower, reminding that He rose from the grave and desires that we experience the wonders of an eternity spent with Him. Bunnies, chicks, and eggs, reminding of the new life we can have in Him every day. I smiled, listening to nature’s spring song echo loudly through the store. Chocolate bunnies, stuffed chicks, and candy eggs, repeated the racoon’s warning against apathy and waddling thoughtlessly into the future. Bulbs repeated the sparrow’s warning that all that could be won’t come about if we trust in the wrong thing. Crosses repeated the hummingbird’s tribute to provision. Spring’s wonderful song, vibrant with Jesus’ promise:
*”…I am the Resurrection and the Life, Whoever believes in (adheres to, trusts in, and relies on) Me , although he may die, yet he shall live.”
* John 11:25 Amplified Bible
