It was the last day of the third month in the year, where spring was supposed to have arrived. Clocks had been forwarded to summer time. After sleepy winter, spring was to yawn gentle cold winds. Instead she coughed out frosty airs that made gardeners put away their musical instruments. Her loud statements of arrival were silenced with continued snow. Everyone was eager for her colourful melodies to start. The music of her blooming grounds was heavily missed.
We went for an afternoon Sunday stroll. The sun was out but her warmth outwitted by the cold temperatures. There was nothing to pick that would make any spring bouquet delightful to look at.
Then I saw a tall tree. The branches spread out like gigantic roots. It seemed to say, “I have lived longer. Look my roots have replaced my branches. That’s how wiser I have become.”
Next followed a tree stump, which appeared to say, “Although cut, I am still beautiful. Look my toe nails are painted naturally green with moss.”
A minutes’ walk away, a couple of young trees proudly swayed. They too looked like they were saying, “Although spring is not fully here yet, we can still put a cat walk show of the label green ivy. See how beautifully it clings on our bodices.”
Finally, on our way back home we passed a group of trees. They too seemed to say, “We are still bare from winter blues however we can offer a royal comfort in our purple and green meadow carpet.”
Even with the identity crisis of the season, where winter seemed not to know when to stop and spring when to start, nature made a statement through her trees – we know who we are regardless of season expectations.