Back to Snow

Spring surprised me this morning with snow on the ground . . . just as I was starting to think it was garden time. I had a relaxing weekend felting workshops taught by Shawn Glidden and Elise Kyllo on a beautiful nearby farm. When I left Sunday afternoon, hostess Donna was felting a rug outside, made with wool from sheep she raised. Colorful wool, good conversations and music, and delicious food added to the memorable days.
When I came home, I helped stack wood we split through March and April, kitchen-cookstove wood for year after next.
Just two more days to celebrate Poetry Month:
The First Spring Day by Christina Rossetti
I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
Sing, robin, sing;
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.
I wonder if the springtide of this year
Will bring another Spring both lost and dear;
If heart and spirit will find out their Spring,
Or if the world alone will bud and sing:
Sing, hope, to me;
Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory.
The sap will surely quicken soon or late,
The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate;
So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom,
Or in this world, or in the world to come:
Sing, voice of Spring,
Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing.