There is nothing, absolutely nothing, like Spring in the South.
Especially this year, when Spring literally kicked out Winter in one day...bursting and busting out all over and putting on a color show the likes of which has never been seen before.
I don't remember a year when the vibrant lime green of Persimmon leaves mutually co-existed along with the soft white of Dogwood blossoms and the scarlet in-your-face Azaleas.
It's like all creation got together and said, "Let's show 'em what we got!"
Any gardener here worth their salt has had their sap running for weeks now...being forced to jump-start necessary Spring activities to full-speed-ahead in an effort to keep one step ahead of Mother Nature's exuberance.
My back and muscles say I am a fool...but a happy fool...
One who has been pruning and feeding and nurturing and loving-on, as they say in the South, my gardens...unearthing and mulching tender shoots of life, feeding and pruning, doing all a good mother does for her children, because she cares for them...which leads me to...
Last week, when I was sitting in church, thinking and praying and attempting to reign in my meandering thoughts...when I heard myself singing this chorus...
"Crucified, laid behind the stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
And whether or not the worship team meant for that chorus to stick in my mind all week I do not know...(personally I think they did)...
But for whatever reason, for almost one week now, that chorus has hovered around my consciousness like a pesky mosquito, bugging me...