1367. March is the month of expectation… ~Emily Dickinson

The March wind roars
Like a lion in the sky,
And makes us shiver
As he passes by.
When winds are soft,
And the days are warm and clear,
Just like a gentle lamb,
Then spring is here.
~Author Unknown

Well, as usual March blew in hard and fast, and its gusty winds did indeed roar and prowl about like the a lion most every day. And before the month came to and end yesterday, tornados blew into our area 4 prior to its demise, which will have more than likely driven off any remaining vestiges of Old Man Winter’s wiles. Though springtime has newly sprung, sadly here it appears summer’s fires are already being stoked. So it seems that spring will be short lived, and we will most surely be in for one long, long, long hot summer. Springtime may not only be very short-lived but this year’s has also not been as stellar as those of the past few years. However, as abbreviated and limited as it may be, I couldn’t let it pass without sharing its glory.

It all started with the redbud tree
which began showing color almost
at the very onset of the month.

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Then the wisteria dangled and
spread its richly scented purple
lusciousness around the yard.

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Not to be out done the tulips tiptoed
around underneath a garden fountain.

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Then the roses commenced setting buds
and some have already opened to release
their prodigious and assorted aromas.

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Next the clematis vines embarked on
their climbs and some have even set their
pointy buds, while a few have actually
opened to display their magical deliciousness.

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Thereupon the gulf penstemmon pushed
up their tall spires and are now ringing
their dainty, purply “tinkling” fairy bells.

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About that time the colorful columbines
proceeded to prance around buffeted by
our north and south, high gusting winds.

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Finally the poppies sent up their nodding buds
that quite soon stood ever so tall and straight,
which is their modus operandi, before popping
open to jitterbug upon the whimsy of the winds.

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Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. ~Song of Songs 2:12  ✝

1138. What potent blood hath modest May. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

The fact that the colors in the flower have evolved in order to attract insects to pollinate it is interesting; that means insects can see the colors. That adds a question: does this aesthetic sense we have also exist in lower forms of life? ~Richard P. Feynman

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Lively fiestas are going on outside my windows, and creatures, great and small, winged or afoot, are partaking of the flowering banquets. In fact the “beasties” have been so busy moving around and supping on May’s “potent blood” that lately I’ve been able to capture only a few images of them with my camera. But that’s okay because I wouldn’t slow them down a bit for a photo op, even if I could, for what they’re doing is sacred and greatly needed. For not only are they satisfying their divinely designed hunger but they are also guaranteeing that this time next year there will be more glory and bounty in earth’s growing spaces. Only God could devise such an amazing design whereby Creation’s continuance and sustenance belongs not in the hands of the biggest, the strongest, or the smartest but whereby mankind owes its provision of food and therefore existence to pollinators, small creatures whose lives span the briefest capsules of time. Given that, it’s regrettable that much of mankind nowadays lives in godless, sterile technological hubs where the sight of the miraculous in the workings of Creation is lost and the enormous power and goodness of the Lord and what He has granted goes unseen or unnoticed or unaccepted. They are totally unaware or disbelieve that their welfare could possibly be carried out, not by human hands, but instead by tiny wings and feet which they, of course, hold not in high regard or for that matter even acknowledge the possibility of  their vital importance.

I know every bird in the mountains, and the insects in the fields are mine. ~Psalm 50:11  ✝

**Images via Pixabay; collage created by Natalie