For the record, I am ready for spring. Winter has not yet noticed this. The long, cold days still stretch out, despite my weariness. Yesterday, the winds blew and cold settled in once more. Each day seems to be a waiting game and winter finds me the weaker foe.
I have been going through old photographs, trying to remind myself of warmer days. I know part of this feeling is that I have been stuck indoors too much of late – partly because of the cold and partly because teaching the kids requires it. We are easing toward spring break and while I love the trill of that word *spring* as it rolls off my tongue, I also know that it will not appear soon.
The season does this, you know. Perhaps not in all places, but it does it here where I dwell. Spring will raise her head slightly, beauty will blossom beneath her fingertips and then boom – the snow and cold rush back in saying, “Did ya miss me?” This is part of life here, I guess – and no matter where we may dwell, I am sure we all have our own difficult seasons to get through. I am fortunate where I live -my heart sings most of the year and perhaps someday I will learn to allow it to sing in this season too. I just don’t know when.
It is true, I grow weary at the sight of gray skies, naked branches stripped by the wind, the yellowed grasses, and the yards bereft in the loss of birdsong save the times when they come feeding. It rarely happens now. I know I am a sorry old fool sometimes, for when I hear them – I go rushing to the window in the hopes to spy where the music came from. It’s not to take a photograph, but to hear them sing. Strange, isn’t it? How the seasons affect us. How sometimes the graying sky and the nakedness with which the trees lean from the weight of the wind perhaps portrays a little bit of what we are feeling inside.
Not to worry, though – for I do know a new day will soon appear, bringing along with it the gentle kiss of spring rain, flowers blooming, and birdsong every morning. I would not be exaggerating when I say I count the seconds till its presence. I find it funny though, how every winter is like this. And along those lines I will say this… I have been going through some older photographs. I was looking back to a time when we went hiking in the canyons. I was still learning how to use my new camera and though many of the photos are not perfect, right now – at this very time when my heart is aching for spring – they sing to me. They speak to me of place. They speak to me of beauty and while not perfect, they give me solace. So instead of sharing picture perfect photos this time, I am going to try to take the less than perfect poses and hope they speak to your heart as they have to mine.
For me, I think that what I have learned is that what is important is not always capturing that perfect shot, living the perfect life, or finding only the perfect moments to treasure. Even those images, those times – when things were less than perfect have wealth hidden inside of them. I think, perhaps, we need to learn to look a little harder.
Written for The Daily Post Prompt: record