If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”
Anne Bradstreet
(image taken using a trail camera / Troup, Co. Georgia / Julie Cook / 2014)
Pausing briefly, this Sunday morning in order to welcome a new month to the calendar, this the first wee days of March, I cannot help but feel a great deal of anticipation.
Anticipation because I know that with March comes more warm days than cold.
Longer days than short.
More growth than death.
More sun than cloud. . .
or so we hope.
Old Man Winter is not dead and gone by any stretch of the imagination but He is in the death throws as the ending of another winter grasps for its final breath—for which, I am thankful.
I say all of this as I also find myself filled with a bit of foreboding trepidation on this beautiful brand new morning to a brand new month.
With the arrival of Spring, and all of its splendid glory, an epic climatic battle of the seasons is destained to ensue, relegating us mere mortals to that of spectator and victim.
The ferocity of the clash between a dying winter and a blooming Spring comes at a tremendous cost to Earth’s inhabitants. Such encounters seem only to be more fierce in recent memory. Looming somewhere in the atmosphere, as days warm and winter continues to fuel the strong north winds, the inevitable meeting of these two bodies of energy, warm and cold, spawns a fury that sends chills down the spine the most seasoned farmer, metrologist and emergency responder.
It is the phenomena known as the Tornado.
So whereas I am more than ready to welcome in a more temperate climate, sans winter’s cold winds and gray skies, I do so with one eye turned ever skyward, silently offering a small prayer, not today Lord, please not today.
cookiecrumbstoliveby 