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Drunk on Spring...

By April 2, 2013

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Reading a Book in a FieldOn days (like today), it's hard to sit inside and work--the sun is shining, and the trees are weaving their hypnotic, meandering dance (a jig in the light, Spring breeze). All the sights and sounds just make me want more. The flowers are weighing down the branches--purple & yellow, with a spring-green backdrop. And, I'm sure I'd see a multitude of floral-or-green-sprigged arrangements in gardens interspersed. It's Spring! It's intoxicating.

And, of course, I can't help but think of An April Day, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

"When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.

"I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms."

I want to visit the woods. I want to immerse myself in Springtime.

I find myself reading Spring, in Walden, by Henry David Thoreau: "We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty. We loiter in winter while it is already spring."

Now, tell me (please do), where does this day find you? Inside or out? Studying, working, playing, reading, writing... being?

 

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