A Beautiful Sunday

What a beautiful day it was Sunday. The world is looking good in its painted splendor. The redbuds and dogwood trees sing to me. I only wish they could remain all summer. When I was younger, I loved the honeysuckle that volunteered in fence rows. The smell was heavenly and the little trumpet flowers were awesome. I remember the beautiful wild roses in pink, white and red that climbed up banks along the road. They smelled wonderful. They were always blooming for Mother’s Day and were worn to signify if your mother was living (red) or deceased (white). The ritual was repeated on Father’s Day. The wonder of these roses was the lengthy growing season, as they lasted all summer. What happened to the honeysuckle and the wild roses?

The world seems so fresh in the spring, with leaves popping and foliage hiding gaping holes in the trees. Even the spring storms seem to bring fresh air and rain that wash the winter slush from the canvas. The animals seem to share my joy of the season. I have seen lots of deer, holding their white tails high in the air, and romping away as if spotting some unseen danger. The birds are singing and the hills are alive! Oh well, what great memories. I guess by now you are pretty sure I love spring!