It was a gift from a friend that inspired this entry. It was an unanticipated
gift for only a modest bit of help. Maybe the gift was for being there just
when help was needed, but it was an unexpected gift. As I thought about how nice of a
gesture the gift-giving was, I realized that the surprise of it made the gift extra
special.
This is the time of the year for surprise. Two weeks ago we had (and most of us enjoyed)
a late-season snow. For my part, snow is always a treat for the senses; sight,
sound, smell, touch, and, for lovers of "snow creme", even taste. For those of us
living in warmer climes, snow is a gift, a rare gift. If you were lucky enough
to be out and walking, out and wandering and wondering amidst the freshly painted
landscape, it was truly a visual feast. I can't talk about winters and snow like my
northern friends, but these memories will keep me until our next chance at winter so many
months from now.
Then, only two weeks later, to see the first blossoms of apples. The earlier blooms of
peaches suffered as a result of the late snow, but the apples escaped the ice
and snow, staying clamped tightly through those few days of cold. They showed the
slimmest slip of pink up until today's grand opening: two weeks after snow
weighed on the branches, the branches now floated with new color.
Look around, this IS the season of surprise, from the small treats to the most
obvious of changes. If our eyes are open, if our ears can hear, if we really
smell the wind, we will be a part of the great surprise of springtime, rather than
just observers of it. We will blossom. We will be the wonder of still sleeping eyes.
And, why this gift? Because we were there just when help was needed.
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Updated: 1:13 AM GMT on April 18, 2007
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