Impatiently, I wait, scanning the skyline for the first hint of spring. A faint blush of color in the redbuds. A timid crocus. The first swoop of a barnswallow’s wing.
Spring is elusive. Fleeting. Like a mirage, springtime will soon disappear on the horizon of a long, hot summer. Nothing but a vanishing memory.
At our house, good memories aren’t just cherished…they’re hoarded. Old vacations are boxed, bagged, and bottled. Dried cactus. The cremated ashes of Mount St. Helens. Shells and pebbles from far-flung beaches. The Pacific Ocean, itself, is stored in my cassette recorder. It comes to life at the push of a button.
But springtime. How do you store up spring? It can’t be dried, canned or boxed. Spring has few mementos and no cremated ashes. It is life in full motion. Continue reading
Adventuring With Vic 