Each day the sun shines through the old windows of this house, spilling golden warmth across the wooden table and stretching herself out across the bare wood floors. Small containers carry the beginnings of life hidden in the warmth of their soil, invisible to me but I know it’s there. It feels sacred here near their place next to the old windows. I join our seeds here in this dining room with a wall of glass facing south, for I am just as hungry for that sunlight as they.
We share a table. We share the light, eager for the dawn of spring. It nears. Here in the Pacific Northwest, winter has not grasped us very tightly this year, so he slips away easily and content. Spring wants it more. She colors herself in the pale pink blossoms on the trees that line my street, the large Camellia blooming proudly against the front porch of this bungalow and the sole yellow daffodil I found in my yard today.
It won’t be long now.
Who else is excited for spring?