April Cried

On Monday afternoon, great black clouds spread blotchy shadows over the neighborhood like spilled grease.  And then brushed by early evening sun, a wide wash of light invited us outside.  Following the downpour, the earth sent up the rich odor of soil.  And after all the wind, the pear trees sent down swirls of foliage that paved our path with milky petals.

Outside the scent of lilac is almost sippable.  Forsythia screech their golden heads at the sky, while ferns and hosta hustle toward the sun.  Puddles of purple circle rhododendron roots and redbuds sprout bubble gum flowers from brown winter sticks. 

As a result of all the recent rain, everything is blooming in ridiculous splendor.  This spring, new life feels less like an assault and more like an invitation to follow suit, to cry a little, but to grow more.
JEB