But Spring, It Still Comes
It's been a rough, tough patch lately in an already barren desert of a season. My body has all but quit. So many hard situations plague the surrounding world. So many loved ones seem trapped in a slow downhill shift toward another long, dark valley. Today, I felt the sigh of reality escape my lips as I gingerly washed some day-old strawberries that were already headed past their prime, hoping to pump some vitamin C into my sweet boy who'd just spiked a fever. He glanced at them and a smile lit up his flushed little face. "Soon," he said, his tired but bright eyes widening with delight, "we won't have to buy them from the store anymore. We'll pick them from our garden!" I'd forgotten how, a few weeks ago, I'd excitedly led the kids out back to show them the first, almost hidden surprises of spring. The green baubles of new buds clinging to dry skeletons of branches. The ruddy stubs of rhubarb and sharp green edges of bulbs, peeking o