Beauty found me this week. I do not look for it, as it is everywhere. But it is not all for me, especially. So I don’t look for beauty: I wait until it finds me.
There is loveliness in grey days, certainly; the sun doesn’t have to be shining, in order to see the trees in winter silhouette. So it was not in a high mood, but in at least an even one that I strolled through the yard on the way to the compost pile in the far bottom corner. I was not on a garden ramble, for there is no garden interest now, particularly. And yet .. I felt the plants looking at me, those that are evergreen or just beginning to hint at their return. If I spoke “plant,” I imagined they would be wondering whether I would notice them now, without bushy foliage or flowers.
And then they caught me: there they were in the middle of the lawn, three wild ferns, an inch tall at most, having outlived the mowings of last year and grown enough to attract notice (knowing by experience that I would mark them with sticks and transplant them to safety when it’s warm enough). And so, my even mood elevated itself, and in a corner of my mind I joined the tiny ferns in forward-looking. When they’re in a garden bed, it is amazing how big they can grow!
Spring birds returning
Even in March winds,