Miracle

Time ticks on, the seasons roll around, from winter to spring, whatever else is happening in life, good, bad or ugly.  May is a time of greenness and energy everywhere, a time for hope and bravery and the thought that probably everything will be alright in the end after all.  While I wrestle with the mundane, the worrying, the anxiety-forming, elsewhere, not far away, life has been created and nothing else matters.  Tiny, delicate, miraculous creatures are blindly chipping their way out into the world, with nothing but a layer of twigs between them and the ground.  Spiky shafts are drying and opening into fluff and feather.  Eyes are opening for the first time and seeing the constant green swaying of branches and the beaks of parents filled with caterpillars and grubs.  Squeaking voices are learning to call and sing.  Spring is a breathtaking miracle like no other.

Eggs found on our wanders round our home town and along its streamside walks.

Asparagus, the first of the season, from the allotment. 

Outside, after tea, every night.  Scooters, footballs, tennis rackets, bug collectors, cricket bats.  Boys, unleashed.

I'd like to say the beautiful sound of a Chopin piano concerto drifting on the evening breeze.  Actually, it's usually Jingle Bells or a very loud rendition of The Bare Necessities.  But hey, that's good enough for me.

Enjoy your May Bank Holiday.  See you on the other side.