It is a high cloud day filled with gray and blue in these Springtime hills and valleys.
With the wind comes the feeling of soft caresses to sooth our soul and quiet our inner turmoil. It rocks us back and forth within Mother Nature’s arms giving us comfort and warming our stay.
The early morning’s dew collects at leaf edge and twig tip like tiny tears on cheek and lash. They dangle there for a while caught in a brief moment of living time.
A
particular dewdrop attracts us. We peer at it as though seeing into, and through, a portal
of pure crystal. It is like a mirror reflecting a vision clear and clean. We have the
sense of looking into the innermost depth of life and living of all creation and through
our own.
What is life?
Why of life?
Way of life?
The answers are the quest that gives life and living added mystery and meaning.
The air is perfumed with flowers, our soul is free, caressed.
In the early weeks of Spring, before the grasses grow beyond a few inches above the ground, innumerable patches of little, blue petalled, yellow-faced beauties simply abound all around. It is easy to imagine why they are called bluets or innocence. Everything about these little flowers is delicate. The blossoms with their sweet, upturned faces reflect the purity and innocence of a summer sky.
A particular tree catches our vision. It spotlights the valley slopes as if fairies had sprinkled snowdust over each branch leaving their wings as leaves in the aftermath. Every now and then a ray of sunshine touches these Juneberry lights and a special glow emanates from the heart of this Appalachian Mountain Country World.
The clouds have come down now to greet the Earth. They touch-taste every living thing with raindrops; nourishing, cleansing and renewing. Hayscented fern have slowly and surely taken over the forest floors converting the ground from duf brown to bright emerald green.
Marsh marigold splash the mountain wetlands with gold as squirrel corn and Dutchman’s breeches carpet the rich woods in delicate sprays of green and white.
Mushrooms play peek-a-boo and dance like elves in a fantasy world. The land and its flora and fauna are clean and pure. Birds are quick to sing again, clearer and sweeter. The spirit of all living things is lifted toward the heavens and tingles with a new enthusiasm. A rainbow appears beyond the horizon and the Earth below shines as its pot of gold.
Copyright © 1988, 1999 Barbara A. Smith and John G. Hipps. All rights reserved.
This essay was first published May 18, 1988 in the Free-Press Courier , Westfield, Pennsylvania.