more waxing poetic on Spring…

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It’s overcast and cool today, but everything is literally exploding around town…I wish that I had just a few more minutes to prioritize with in a day (though how can I really be complaining now that daylight savings is on our side) to take some pictures. Hopefully I’ll get out and about this weekend to record some of the budding buds, and in the meantime I’ll leave the description to the masters–well, one of them:

In the morning the sun rose brilliant and quickly wore away the thin layer of ice that covered the water, and all the warm air was quivering with the steam that rose up from the quickened earth. The old grass looked greener, and the young grass thrust up its tiny blades; the buds of the guelder-rose and of the currant and the sticky birch-buds were swollen with sap, and an exploring bee was humming about the golden blossoms that studded the willow. Larks trilled unseen above the velvety green fields and the ice-covered stubble-land; peewits wailed over the low lands and marshes flooded by the pools; cranes and wild geese flew high across the sky uttering their spring calls. The cattle, bald in patches where the new hair had not grown yet, lowed in the pastures; the bowlegged lambs frisked round their bleating mothers. Nimble children ran about the drying paths, covered with the prints of bare feet. There was a merry chatter of peasant women over their linen at the pond, and the ring of axes in the yard, where the peasants were repairing ploughs and harrows. The real spring had come.

LEO TOLSTOY, Anna Karenina

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