Fecundity

Photo by Purrpl Haze

After four days of absolutely glorious sunshine and temperatures in the 80s, I woke up this morning to the sound of a soft and gentle rain.

Overnight, the pavement has turned a deep black and the grass is a vibrant, almost emerald green. The lawn has suddenly grown random, lumpy tufts of new grass here and there, like the beard of an adolescent boy before his first shave.

The pansies which just yesterday afternoon had begun to bow their heads because their roots were pinched with dry pain, are now dancing a happy dance in the window boxes outside my bedroom window.

The buds of the trees have opened, drinking deeply of the warm, soft rain as the birds chirp and the squirrels chatter a happy tune, each in their own way.

It is a veritable symphony of sights and sounds with different images and notes than the one played in the Spring sun.

The whole world outside my window has a glistening shine - even in the midst of the cloudy morning gloom - like a woman who has just been loved. The way she glows and glistens. Her body fuller, somehow, than it was before. And generous. The way her walk turns into a strut.

There is an unmistakable, irresistible, prolific sensuality to Spring which causes the blood to rush and pulse faster through one's body.

Suddenly, the day is opening before me in a new way. New possibilities. New ideas.

Creativity and imagination are stirring in my soul, shaking the dust from their winter boots, yearning for easier gear, lighter vehicles in which to travel.

Spring is the wild, intoxicating call of life to life to give more life.

I am propelled into the day, like a lover who has been separated too long from her mate and has forgotten what she was missing.

I hear the voice of God sing,

"Arise my love, my fair one,
and come away;
for lo, the winter is past,
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
is heard in our land.
The fig tree puts forth its figs,
and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away. (Song of Solomon 2:10-13)

I hear the psalmist say, "The earth has brought forth her increase; may God, our own God, give us a blessing." (67:6)

This day, this rainy, Spring day, I have decided, is like a portrait of faith, hand painted by the Divine.

And I am a crocus of Sharon.