The Hope of Spring

Remember the old original Dr. Zhivago movie? Every now and I get a yearning to see it again. Usually around this time of year, to be specific. The song, "Somewhere My Love" contains the line "although the snow covers the hope of spring." I've always loved that. Spring isn't visible, but it's there, down under the snow. We had big snow a couple of weeks ago, and when it melted, there were the tips of the daffodils peeking up through the ground. They've a ways to go before blooming. But still. There are crocus here and there and snowdrops. We've put in our time with the cold and the wind and the snow. We're ready for spring. And right now what we get is the hope of spring. I'll take it.

My late friend Marilyn sent me a box of bright scraps. Beach-theme scraps. I thought of my young friend who has adopted a baby boy. Her mom, my good friend, has a house at the Jersey Shore, and the new little family will be spending the summer there. I thought that TJ needed a quilt for the shore house. I'd gotten it mostly together and then it set on the shelf until a week or so ago we had a dinner invitation from the owner of the shore house and I took the quilt along to give her then.  Fabric with beach chairs and sunglasses and flip-flops. Beyond spring, the hope of summer!

Early last week I was sick with a dreadful gastrointestinal virus. It really took the wind out of my sails for several days. Himself fixed jello. I sipped on herbal tea. I slept and slept and slept. And I got better.

Another friend stopped by and brought a small potted plan. It wasn't blooming on the day she delivered it.

But the next day it began to show itself. And in another day or two we had beautiful tulips.

The hope of spring.