Spring in the east
Spring has sprung around here.
Snow days have subsided and the earth has begun
to celebrate the only way it knows how.
The best and most glorious way.
First, peeking out to see if it’s actually safe
and then faithfully throwing open the doors
held closed too long by winter’s chill.
The earth is cheerful.
This is the most beautiful tree I’ve ever laid eyes on
and I don’t even know her name.
It was created especially for me as a reminder that God is
the Father of all artists.
He relishes in every brush stroke, note, and word.
He would hang a Jackson Pollock on his fridge if He had one.
Maybe He does; what do I know?
These days I fall asleep to sounds that rival the jungles of Peru.
At first I thought there must be a bird nest full of babies
in the tree outside my window.
After a late night investigation with Brent, we discovered
it’s actually frogs in the pond five steps from our back door.
Straight up chirp baby bird style.
I had no idea.
It’s really cute.
But now they’re growing up a bit and
the sound is quite guttural.
There are currently two rhythmic sounds echoing through my mind
now as we lay in bed.
One makes the exact same sound as the greatest fictional weapon
ever created as it slices through the air; the Lightsaber.
The other is the three-second scream of a woman being
tortured by that guy that lives in the mirrors.
I feel like I can relate to Katniss in Catching Fire when the Mockingjays
all have Prim’s screams on repeat.
How did she get through that?
When I say it like that it sounds bad but it’s not.
It’s wild out there people!
Add the sound of the crashing waves and I’m in love.