I am a poor, wayfaring stranger.
Traveling through this land of woe.
Winter weary, we wander. Why does cold linger? What to do?
We were going north, but wonder now if that’s wise. If, when we wend our way so high into those mountains, will winter still linger there?
Watching out my window. I’m waiting for the world to renew itself. And me.
Will you bring me sunshine? If you do, I too will bloom. Yesterday, I noticed the Columbine shoots, dozens of shafts that herald tall lilies. Tulips by the score. Solomon’s seal almost ready. It too needs just a little encouragement. One sunny day is all we need. The roses have gone wild and will need cutting back.
What have we here? Another gray day. More coffee, I think.
Waiting is. I will work on my garden later, if the rain holds off. The flowers grow undaunted. They have hardier souls than me.