Pot of gold

It's been a rainy and cold weekend. If winter lasted only 24 hours, this would be the hour before sunrise ... still dark, but with the slightest hint of light in the sky and the sounds of birds beginning to stir.

Speaking of birds, I've been leaving birdseed in the hollow of the apple tree beside my front deck -- a mix of oats, millet, corn and black-oil sunflower seeds -- and the wild birds have been having a feast. I can hear some twittering out there now. And that's not the online social networking kind of twittering, but the kind that says, "Wow!  Black-oil sunflower ... my favorite!"

A tangle of blackberry vines has taken over the azalea bushes next to the road. Blackberries grow wild and abundantly in this part of the world. I love watching the berries turn from ruby red to deep purplish-black in the autumn; it brings back childhood memories of blackberry-picking in the country (well, technically what we had down South was dewberries), followed by berry shortcake or, even better, a simple bowl of fresh, ripe berries in milk with a bit of sugar.

However, after a full season of growth, the vines out front have stalks three-quarters of an inch in diameter. The thorns on a mature blackberry thicket are wicked. So late this afternoon, I got out the loppers and leather gardening gloves. I must admit it was rather satisfying to locate the parent vines and chop away to separate them from the ground. Maybe the old hunter instinct coming out in me.

Around 5 o'clock, the clouds began to lift and the sun came out. Just as a freight train rolled by, I looked out of the picture window and saw this.

Behind the rainbow, you can catch a faint glimpse of mountain through the mist.

It was a temporary respite. When I began typing this, the clouds had lowered again, rain began to fall, and I could hear the windchimes outside my window. But by the time the photo file had finished uploading, the rain had ceased. Now I can see the mountains clearly, with a bit of snow on the highest peak, although some pretty good gusts of wind are blowing.

Fits and starts. It's early spring now, in the turn of seasons. Everything is important, and nothing is for keeps.

Comments

[Joanne]

Your last line says it all, Everything is important, and nothing is for keeps. There's a deep truth in those words, relating to nature, the seasons, and life.

[Sharon]

The photo of the rainbow is extraordinary ~ beauty that's hard to capture and illustrates "nothing is for keeps."

[Kitty]

This reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, from Oscar Wilde: Life is too important to be taken seriously.