|This is what I wish my tulips looked like.|
The sun and I are becoming friends again. He is stopping by more regularly, sharing his warmth. (I'll forever be his friend for melting the ice that was hanging off my roof.) His presence stirs something inside me. It happens like this every year.
Spring is filled with promise and hope. Like the way I feel when I see my tulips poking their little leaves above the soil. I know that in a few weeks the nasty bugs will start eating away at them. But, for now, they're hopeful. And beautiful. They're growing and stretching despite their uncertain future. They're doing what they're supposed to do.
I feel the need to grow and stretch as well. I feel more energy than I did in my recent months of hibernation. I have cleaned out my closet and pantry. Today, I made and froze over a dozen meals. I made my bed with clean, fresh sheets. (Please don't thing I haven't changed my sheets all winter. I have. Changed them.)
I am looking for opportunities to flourish. I'm going to a writing conference with my writer friends. And, I'll be attending BYU Women's Conference with my sisters. My mind desires new knowledge. My spirit desires rejuvenation. I will give them what they want.
I see corners that are dusty. Grass that needs raking. A garden plot that cries out for seedlings. I will sweep and clean and plant. I will follow my tulip's lead and do what needs to be done without worry for what may come.
What are your spring plans?
|In my dreams.|
(both pictures from morguefile.com)