Spring, where have you been for so long?
Today many folks wanted to rise from their beds and shake the cobwebs from their sleepy heads … to peak through the blinds and see sun and flowers and saw more snow instead.
For the life of me, I don’t remember anyone saying that April snows bring May flowers.
Officially, spring has been here long enough to melt snow … to tease kernels from branches … to bloom bright with azalea or forsythia … to bring out the purples, pinks, and sun-yellows we crave all winter long.
Looking back to move forward …
While our friends in the frozen tundra and in all parts north wait impatiently to dig out from under … I have been searching my archives.
I scrolled through all the April posts beginning with the first spring of my blog … April, 2010 looking for inspiration.
I often go back to find old posts I can copy and recycle. Sometimes I go back to find a topic I can revisit with a new twist.
April of 2010 … there was but one. April of 2011 … there were eight and April of 2012 … there were none.
April of 2013 I found the post where I asked my readers to send me one-sentence prompts for my flash fiction … Be careful what you wish for … posted on April 3rd.
That was the opener of my flash fiction.
April of 2014 … scrolling from the last to the first … there were two posts of Bleeps, Bloopers and Outtakes featuring my hapless character … poor little Gail.
Continuing with April of 2014 … I wrote one Flash Fiction using a sentence Patti sent:
Jenny (she) stared out the window at the rain drops spattering off the leaves of the willow tree, wondering how the hell her life had spun so out of control.
And the month began with Part Two and Three of a three part series on moving forward in honor of Laura Drake’s momentous move from Southern California to Texas.
Those are the posts that inspired me today.
The road we travel …
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, growin’ like a breeze
Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
Take Me Home, Country Roads, by John Denver
We travel many roads on this journey of our life. John Denver published that song in 1971. It was included in his break-out album Poems, Prayers and Promises.
In 1972, I hit the road alone for the first time, barefoot with two babes in tow, speeding down Route 35 along the Jersey Shore in an ancient Chevy Impala … singing that song.
I was naïve and frightened and determined that morning. I had never been to West Virginia and had only seen the section of the Blue Ridge Mountains that connects to the Pocono Mountains and looms over the landscape in a sleepy town in Pennsylvania.
It was the fall of my eleventh year. I remember waking before dawn and watching the sun rise over the mountains … the blue haze as the morning fog began to burn off in the new day’s sun.
I remember going out with my playmate’s father to a stable and the overwhelming sense of excitement as the stable owner hoisted me into a saddle for the first time.
Oh, how I remember that first ride … along time-trodden trails into the higher elevations, in the snow, the horses knowing the way better than the kid from Brooklyn … surrounded in golds, yellows, bronze and orange, the colors of autumn under a light cover of snow … an artist’s palate … a young girl’s delight.
And I remember my breath hitch as we turned along the road and came upon a mountain lake, crystal clear, still and hushed. I could hear the sounds of the birds and little creatures, the whinny of the horses, the steam from their noses, the sense of power riding on a magnificent steed.
I did not grow up in rural America and only knew these small wonders of nature from vacations or visiting family.
What I did know, that chilly morning in October, and that day with my babes in tow … is that there are many roads to travel by. Which ones we select define us … mold and shape us.
If the road you have taken becomes hard to travel … be at peace … life will give you respite. You may come to a crossroad, turn a corner or climb over the next hill to see what new adventures wait beyond.
Mine have not been country roads. They have more often been concrete and asphalt sidewalks. I might have frolicked in a mountain stream or two as a girl, but mostly, I frolicked in the waves at Coney Island, rode along the Brooklyn Narrows, skipped along the avenues and played leap-frog over fire hydrants.
New beginnings …
Since I have a black thumb and have elected to enjoy nature in any way other than digging in dirt, my seeds are planted in the rich soil of my brain.
My garden blooms new this springtime as I wait for my internal sun to prod them from small, tight buds that open slowly to a garden of virtual delights.
Wherever you are on the continent on this first day … while pranksters prank and jokesters joke … celebrate yet another joyous beginning.
Happy April Fool’s Day.
What new beginnings do you face this spring?
Have you planted seeds that will bring forth a garden of delight?
fOIS In The City