chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things

on the cusp of daffodils…

on the cusp of daffodilsThis morning, my mind is a gray blank, reflecting the sky. But outside, the birds dash and dart, swoop in and out of the crabapple tree in chittering pairs — chickadees, juncos, bushtits. Fat robins forage in the sodden beds. A woodpecker, perhaps a block away, offers urgent bursts of percussion. A deep hoof print, a torn tulip leaf, a bulb yanked from the ground, attest to the night’s visitors.

There is an eagerness, a readiness, but also a holding — the purple crocus clenched tight against the assault of rain — as if the plums, the daffodils, the apples, the bees, have slowed to await the luscious warmth of a clear, dry day.

Or maybe that’s just me…

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