Welcome, dear readers.
The first day of spring might be printed in bold back letters on the calendar, but in the Southern Appalachian Mountains, spring is fickle.
A beautiful warm day may waltz her way down the mountain hollow knowing a snowy gray world awaits morning’s first light. Spring will make its appearance in a few days, but for now, snowflakes are dancing outside my window.
The hollow was soundless as I stood and watched the feather-sized snowflakes make their slow journey to the ground…some landing atop the bright yellow forsythia bush…two seasons colliding, vying for victory.
For several weeks the forsythia bushes have had sweet yellow blooms marching down their long graceful limbs. Each day I’ve watched the intensity of color and the size of the yellow, bell-shaped flowers grow in size.
A riot of daffodils ring the stone springhouse, the sweet yellow blooms holding hands with the grape hyacinths…such a pretty pairing. The old farmhouse has daffodils in beautiful beds and also one or two blooms standing defiantly alone, as if choosing their own spot, possibly planted by the farmers wives over the years.
“She turned to the sunlight
and shook her yellow head,
and whispered to her neighbor:
'Winter is dead.'” AA Milne
This winter season was exceptionally hard in the hollow. Snow followed snow. The pasture across the way wore a blanket of white for several weeks in a row. The cows took the weather in stride, never going hungry because the good farmer brought large bales of hay to eat and for bedding-down warmth. Now I watch the cows enjoy the greening of the hollow. The calves like to congregate near the forsythia bushes on the other side of the fence…makes for a pretty picture.
The daffodils and the forsythia are signs the worst of winter has past.
Have you faced a winter season in life; a cold wind of grief, grey clouds of shame, icicles of bitterness? Rejoice! Solomon’s words reassure us that winter has passed. Spring has won the battle of clashing seasons.
See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth, the season of singing has come. Song of Solomon 2:11-12
Dear reader, let Jesus breathe the warm sweet breath of spring over your life. Let the season of new birth, and the brightness and sweet fragrance of the yellow flowers revive and restore what your winter season strove to destroy. Hallelujah!
More and more color will soon dot the coves and hollows of the mountains. Vibrant reds, sweet pinks, and bright oranges will draw the eye, but for now I will tell winter goodbye and throw open my arms in welcome to spring!
Such is the tug of the mountains.
Come go home with me often,