Thursday, March 20, 2003

Even before I write the first word, I know I cannot do justice to this spring day. In the warm and sunny morning, I cleaned one of the church's perennial beds, pulling and cutting the winter detritus to discover tender green shoots of new life. The damp earth smell, the joy of discovery, the increasing orderliness of the bed, the sun on my back, the anticipation of new growth, all gave me such a feeling of peace and well-being.

Then the dark clouds crept in from the west in the afternoon. As I sat in the car waiting for my sons at school, the lightening, rain and hail came. Nothing tender and sweet about this storm. Hail piled everywhere. Fields and roads flooded.

We watched as the line of clouds were pushed east by the sunshine. Ron spotted the first rainbow---faint and thin and long. I spotted the next rainbow ---absolutely the fattest, shortest and most brilliant rainbow I ever saw.

The fog came with the gloaming, covering the world with a mysterious, thick, dark blue velvet. The spring smell of damp earth returned, bringing me back to where I started the day.

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