#8 Buds

No, I don't mean this kind... or even this kind... but rather this last kind about to be this kind and sighted behind my apartment complex this morning on the way to catch the bus.

As a winter storm howls upon us with another set of wind and storminess (I lost enough power to interrupt my Olympics viewing this evening for a couple of minutes), I want to remember a more hopeful sighting that I have begun to notice in my neighborhood. Despite the dirty snowpiles left from Snowmaggedon and Snowverkill earlier this month, I have noted buds looking full and pliable, brief hints of color laying tucked underneath. It's the hopeful part of this season -- the part that promises renewal, spring, and color after the drab months of winter.

Every year, I find it a surprising reminder of the lush season to come. In the same way that I prefer to grow houseplants from cuttings because of the satisfaction of marking the plant's progress and celebrating its new growth with graduations to new pots and places in the home, I also like to observe and mark spring and Easter as it descends up on me. I cannot stop the stealth of Mother Nature, at times secretly moving forward beneath blankets of snow and at other times regressing backwards when thwarted by a storm or cold spell. But I can stand by and watch, fascinated by the process (true wondering) and audibly applauding nature's succession of the seasons.