Saturated

It was blink, literally, and now everything has begun rigorous sprouting. Trees are blooming early flowers, the Earth itself sends up shoots. I put my hands into the labor of spring this weekend. Culling invasive Norway maples to break open sunlight for an apple tree that has struggled in the understory for a decade or more. I moved rock and soil and the detritus of last year's fall. Building piles of compost, building more soil. Dropping seeds. Today, in the aftermath of scratched skin and newly worked muscles, I can still feel the warmth of yesterday's sun reflecting up and out of my very core. It was more difficult to leave the children this morning, I wanted to take them onto the swollen Sudbury which runs as a very wide lake through Sudbury and Concord. Water and earth have thawed and are recombining. Here I am, working.

In the blissful silence of knowing that small corner of Earth where I live, I thought I sensed an end to this age of hateful conservatism. Not that crimes will not continue to be committed in our name, they will be. But, that an end is in sight. They have made their expression, grasped their power and will challenge us and our children with monumental tasks. But they are finished. I sense.