Behold, All Things Have Become New

Isn't it beautiful, the way spring whispers in so gently after the bitter harsh attitude of winter? It's been a quiet season for me... one in which I have kept my own company most of the time, and watched hopefully every day, as my piece of earth took her sweet time waking up.  How she smiled at me when she did, though.  A slow, lazy, rested smile. Yesterday, I stood on this spot and took a deep breath, stretching and letting it out with a trembly sigh as I looked out over my own backyard.  The tears came... and I just let them.  Tears of renewal....they came for so many reasons, and washed over this heart like the rain falling softly outside my window right now.  I closed my eyes then, briefly, and remembered another spring, five years ago, when Jim and I used to sneak over here and stand on that shoreline and wish it was ours.  It was a tangled mess of overgrown weeds and untended gardens back then.  All anyone saw, was how much work it would be. But we didn't see it that way.  We saw it like this. Big, and bright, and peaceful... filled with the laughter of our boys and the antics of our little dog.  We always saw what it could be.  I love this place. It demands much of us, and we are coming to understand how deeply that should be appreciated.  I spent hours out there tending to it in the last two days and I realized how good it is for my body, mind and spirit.  My willow tree is nearly ready to burst out in leaves, leading the maple and the oaks by at least a week, I think.  We cut down the dead fall of this harsh winter and burned it beside the river.  As I tended the fire, I sat alone on my bench watching the geese fly low over the water and determined that I might do the same - burn the deadfall and watch as the ashes turn to embers and then cool and gently drift away on the wind.  Behold... old things are passed away.  Behold, all things have become new...