Spring. Spring in January. Who would have thought?
It's absolutely gorgeous outside. The sky clear and blue, the wind blowing gently, the temperature hovering in the 70s, a perfect day for spring. But it's not. It's still January.
It makes me want to go out buy plants and start gardening. Planting small seedlings and bulbs into the ground to wait for them to reach their baby roots down and take hold of the soil and reach for the sun. I want to water the grass make it turn all green and wait for all the flowers to burst forth.
But without a winter, the cold hardening the ground, cracking the long hidden seeds, the winter rains pouring forth their fury, there will be no spring. Yet, today, it feels like the first touches of spring that I long for.
I can't wait for spring. For the bright greens, pinks, yellows and purples to dot the landscape. For the ever present rain and wind that chase clouds across the sky and bring up new shoots of grass with every drop. I can't wait for the smells of wisteria wasping their perfume through the evening sunset. The daisies and dafodills bouncing their blooms in the morning sun. The redbuds bursting forth early blooms, leaving trees white and pink. Oh how I long for spring.
But without a winter, there will be no spring.
Even Texas has a winter. It may be small and short compared to some places, but we still claim to have one. Even in the far south, against the salt water coast, winter sneaks up and brushes past with cool winds and torrents of rain. Otherwise the oceans of navy and violet Bluebonnets and orangy-red Indian Paintbrushes couldn't cover the intersections, medians, fields, pastures and the occasional yard.
Maybe next week our hot hot sun will hide behind dark black clouds of rain and bring in a tide of winter so that the loveliest of springs may follow. One can only hope and pray.
