A lone narcissus bouquet, fooled by a false winter, blooms in the pale December sun streaming through the window of my aerie. I peruse the White Flower Farms catalog; plan my window boxes; and dream of Spring.
Camus had his invincible summer*, but I have spring. A spring deep inside me that says new things are always possible. Always there is a budding and a potential for the full bloom of life and love and my heart’s desire. A humbug friend of mine says I’ll never grow up. If by growing up, she means giving up the infinite possibilities of life, then she is right.
In the deep of winter on my morning walk, I sense the potential life in the barren limbs of trees just waiting to spring forth. The frosty, crisp, brown grass whispers up to me of verdant futures yet to be.
The narcissus’ on my sill are mute. Do they wonder at the frosty landscape below their safe interior sill? Do they care? I do. They as much as anything, keep Spring’s promise near to the fore in my thoughts, side by side with each dream and each daily chore.
*”In the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.”
© Perle Champion, is a writer, artist, photographer. Contact: PerlesInk@gmail.com