Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again. (from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C S Lewis)
Spring surpassed his wildest hopes. (from The Return of the King by J R R Tolkein)
Spring has finally arrived here in Boston. Flowers are blooming, tiny leaves are forming on trees, and beautiful green grass is growing thick. If you’ve been reading the weekend posts for the past few months, you know that winter was long here. Long. Especially for a Texas transplant. And as it went along, slowly moving toward spring, I felt a sense of anticipation and longing for spring that I had never experienced before. You see, in Texas, spring comes in a hurry, trampling on the heals of winter. I was always happy for spring to come, but never eager–hungry–for it. So this was a new experience for me, and at first it was merely unpleasant; I just wanted spring to get here and was irritated that it was taking so long. But somehow it became more meaningful as the days and weeks stretched on toward Easter. It was as if the world around me was waiting, building up to something, preparing me for something. And then today was glorious. Of course, spring has been coming for a while now, but today was warm (in the mid 70s) and full of color. And it seems somehow symbolic and very beautiful that the first day that really feels to me like spring–the time when the whole world is renewed–falls on Easter.
[PS–sorry about not posting yesterday. I’ll do better next weekend.]