here in my gardens, tiny, green sprouts are determinedly pushing their way up through the rich, dark soil; today's rains replenished their spirits, no doubt...
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the sugar snap peas, always quick out of the starting blocks, have started affectionately winding their delicate vines around the skinny bamboo sticks i placed in the ground to support them...
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the creamsicle nasturtiums stand proud an inch or so above ground, their flat and variegated leaves tipped nonchalantly at various angles to the sun...
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itty bitty buds are opening on the lemon verbena, releasing a light citrus perfume...
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the easter egg radishes have plumped and now their crowns of pink and violet are visible just above the soil line, enticing we gardeners to pull...
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the spinach holds raindrops in its dark green cupped leaves...
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the onions, like seasoned dancers, stretch their long and poised leaves toward the sky...
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the violas, whose flowers i picked last week to adorn a fresh carrot cake, (see below) have returned, their periwinkle and deep violet petals blowing delicately in the rain...

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the hope, the determination of life...so visible, so tangible...mark twain once said, "it's spring fever.... you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!"

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like the tiny pea tendrils, we stretch our arms up and out, hoping to grasp something we can hang onto, if only for a short while, that will support us as we venture from the comforts we've established...to some place fresh, some place different, some place we cannot describe, but know innately we need to head towards...

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as a young child, i remember 'spring cleaning' in our house...my memories are undeniably intervwoven with written accounts of others' experiences i've since come across...but in my mind, i see windows creaking open, cool and fresh air rushing in, pushing out the stillness of winter; i see rugs being lifted from wooden floors and being beaten on the porch, settlements of the cold months drifting off into the warm rays of sunlight...i remember, at the days' end, the smell rain in the air and the feeling of impending thunderstorms...the expectation of great puddles into which i could jump...

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a more recently developed memory is that of true spring food: i hear asparagus being snapped at the roots and i taste the sweet juices that come from crunching into fresh pea pods; i see the familiar green, plastic baskets carrying ruby jewels that i bite slowly, deliberately, savoring them after a winter without such luxuries...

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spring is here, spring has arrived. the rains, the promises, the sense of urgency to venture into the unknown...and i welcome it, with open arms...accepting and expecting of storms, growth, and delicious experiences of simplicity...