Moonrise, Sunrise, New DayPosted: March 22, 2009
At 5 this morning, I watch a sliver of moon rise quickly in the southeastern sky. Moons are supposed to be nocturnal. Why is this one coming up before daybreak? Is it getting ahead of itself?
Early spring brings such an urgency. I feel it when I am outdoors and aware of my surroundings, and my pulse tamps out the rhythm. The bird-songs are loud and rapid trilling, the trees are desperately pushing out buds, and flowers are coming up out of cold earth. An awakening. Yesterday the branches were bare, today they have red tassels, tomorrow there will be lush green leaves that seem to appear all in the twinkling of an eye. Nature pushes things forward. Nature rushes winter to spring.
Life abounds. Robins peck in the tall fescue. A squirrel jumps over the fence and runs across the yard, toward the patio, across the patio, to the goldfish pond, where he takes a drink. Then he runs through the grass, past the statue of an angel reading a book, and climbs the arbor that will soon be wrapped in white wisteria. He reaches the top, scares off a bluebird, stops to scratch and smooth his tail.
I notice the blue flowers beside the concrete statue are blooming. Colleen brought them to me a year ago.
The forsythias are in full colorful display…I have nine of them. The Carolina jasmine is ready to open. My backyard will be all yellow, like sunrise of a new day.
I’m getting there, too.