Finally... mercifully... it begins again.
The long dormant winter is fading away and brilliant green blades of grass are appearing. Crocus, Tulips and Hyacinth are poking up through the dry, arid soil, crying out for, and beckoning the spring rains.
Succulent green buds are popping out on the Lilac bushes, and those cool fuzzy things are draping from all the Aspen trees in the front yard.
My soul cries out for the breath of new life that always comes with the arrival of Spring.
My heart longs for the refreshing spring showers and the intense thunderstorms with deafening claps of thunder that accompany each piercing bolt of lightning. I love the big spring storms that shake the entire house, and also shake your spirit, letting you know just how alive you are... that there's something much bigger out there than just yourself.
I'm not a winter person. As I get older and my joints and torn meniscus ache, I don't miss the times I used to ski as a younger man. Six months of spring, four months of fall, and one month each of winter and summer would suit me just fine.
Hopefully, in the next life it will be eternal spring there. Perpetual times of refreshing, cool, cleansing breezes, brilliant green plants and trees with sparkling, crystal clear springs and creeks everywhere.
I love to walk out into the back yard on a warm spring morning and just breathe in the fresh air and newness of spring.
The breath of life.
The first day of March called me out to don my waders, and hit the river in town, with boxes packed full of every kind of fly I think might entice a hungry trout or two. It was great to get my rusty fly casting arm loosened up and see if I could still hit my target. Fortunately, it's just like riding a bike. You never forget how.
The sky will continue to get brighter blue and the grass and trees more brilliant green in the the upcoming weeks. Bugs are hatching rapidly and the trout are hungry. Get outside and breathe in the fresh spring air.
It's a time of new life.
A time to become fully alive...
—At The End of My Line.
