After days of rain,

vines burst forth,
the guys no longer slipped while shooting hoops,
and we were rewarded with an orchestra of color.

The massive rain had caused some turmoil at the farm as it washed away precious top soil. It kept me up for several nights, comforting storm-phobic Tuki-dog. There was a leak. There was some cabin fever.

Today, there was sun. Does looking at Wysteria, Dogwoods and Azaleas feel this way every spring?

Jesse found Wind in the Willows on his bookshelf today. After a few chapters he pronounced it "too poetic for his mood right now." : ) but not before I had read this:

Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.

It speaks to the way my yard made me feel today - especially the Wisteria. It is once again waking me up with its reinvention of purple. I want to memorize its softness, be just as vulnerable, remember that it isn't just this vine's mere two weeks of color that is impermanent. I want to notice the purple every day in my children. I want to see the moon in the sky in the daylight (even though I can't capture it very well for you here - it is there, floating an inch above the bowing Wisteria).