Spring the middle of the country is sure different than Spring in Southern California, where I grew up. The grass, the corn fields, the bird song, and especially the big trees have captivated me the last month or so.
What were bare branches a few months ago, I have watched sprout tiny green buds that unfurl into different shapes, from big maple leaves to light, delicate cottonwood leaves. The wind blows through and the leaves shake and shimmer in the sunlight.
Out my window right now is a riot of trees with branches so loaded down with green leaves that I don’t know how the trunks can stand it. But stand they do, as if proud to bear the burden of all this wild greenery at once. Spring is all around me and it is magical.
In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful.