Full on Spring

Spring has made its way to our doorstep. When I walked out this morning to check the mail the Maple tree that had been bare (except for that last brown leaf that hung on for dear life) now bourgeoned with delicate light green leaves; tiny hands fluttering in the wind greeting the sun. 

And so goes the wardrobe, clothes, make-up, accessories and all the necessary ducks in tow; thick clothes tucked into corners of the closest, boots kicked back, sandals and wedges surface up front along with all the pastel shades that I have recently, very recently,  become friends with. 

Betsey Johnson. Homemade baby clips. Chatterbox and Viva Glam V. Cath Kidston. YUM.

Exactly one year ago today, I was in my second trimester recovering from the throes of hormone shifts, unexplainable cravings, and superhero senses. I distinctly remember looking out the window and being awed by so much roses that seemingly grew out of nowhere. Our backyard, an otherwise drab oasis of cement, weeds, spiderwebs, and two stalks of the most stubborn persimmon trees that refuse to grow and bear fruit, comes alive with the surprise of color, complements of Spring. What a sight to behold considering we don’t pay much attention to it. Such happiness in its blooms; nothing short of a message of renewal. 

I was never a big fan of roses, until Rachel Ashwell made them chic and shabby- but even then - years ago I was in denial of a side of me that was so incredibly florid and feminine.  My pregnancy was a culmination of all things maternal, effeminate and pretty.  The floodgates opened the day I cut those roses, arranged them with glee in an old blue and white pitcher, and placed it in the foyer so it can greet me every time I go downstairs.   I was forever changed, my daughter had given me the gift of insight. 

Our roses pink, red, yellow, and plum- wild yet unperturbed, a revelation in an otherwise drab backyard.  They are reminders of nature’s renewing force within and all around me. Today, the buds rest quietly like hands in prayer pointing to the heavens, sleeping beauties waiting for the kiss of Spring. It’s no     that they’re referred to as Ovoids the buds, egg shaped, is probably the best symbol of new beginnings.  I can’t help but feel that I would have come full circle when I take the blooms back in the house as I did exactly one year ago. 

Easter too, is a two days away. Another chance to celebrate, as evidenced by the sweetly colored chocolates in grocery isle, the abounding stacks of eggs, and migration of a certain bird specie:

And their gruesome fate... 

There is rabbit food too, of course. 

We can feel new as we purge our closets and our spirits of its clutter to make room for all the good things the year has to bless us with.  And suddenly we feel much lighter...

and smile wider

My sweet penguin...

laugh louder

Thank God for Blackberries to capture moments on a whim

we savor the small things like sunshine after a week of rain, or tiny green leaves, or the fact the tiny human you are lovingly raising is saying "Dada" and "Mama" even if she doesn't know what it means just yet. And so we switch gears and move forward with optimism on overdrive for all the good things the year has yet to give, with an open heart and a spring in our steps.

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