The days have been flying by this spring. It took a friendly reminder to let me know I hadn’t blogged for quite a while. I haven’t been lazy, but rather quite busy. This is the season of color in the Sandhills. The grass that was dormant with a dirt brown hue seemed to turn bright green overnight. The dogwoods are pristine white and the azaleas are like a painter’s palette of scarlet red, deep pink, lavender, and shining white. This colorful transformation reminds me of the scene from the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy opens the door of her crashed farm house and the black and white picture turns into a memorable, panoramic, technicolor scene.
Surrounded by all the color is so special, but what really amazes me is the growth of the crocus emerging from the pine straw and the buds springing from the pruned Crepe Myrtles. I remember digging shallow holes and dropping the bulbs in the red clay. I was assured they would grow in the spring, but I was more than skeptical. I was even more concerned about my first attempt to prune the Crepe Myrtles. Despite the expert advice I received and the affirmation that I had pruned them correctly in January; I was not optimistic growth would occur in the spring. But it has.
This is probably old hat, ho hum, and “whatever” for those of you who are used to planting, growing, and experiencing annual and perennial plant growth in your yards and gardens. This is all new to me. New and very exciting.
Not only am I in my own yard a great deal of time, but my job affords me the pleasure of spending a majority of the time outdoors as well. Without a doubt a real perk of my new profession. There is one more thing that has caught my attention beyond the colors and the new growth of spring. The sounds of spring. In the mornings and early evenings I do all I can to find a few minutes to be alone. Escaping to the solitude of my own thoughts, whether on the porch swing, sitting on the dock, or somewhere else, I listen to the sounds of the day or night. It may be the breeze through the pines, birds talking to one another, or frogs calling out as the sun dips gracefully from the horizon. Simple? Yes. Relaxing? Definitely. Therapeutic? Most certainly. It gives me a small sense of what Thoreau must have felt on Walden Pond.
It’s a fast-paced world, but it doesn’t always have to be. If you force yourself to take the time to notice the colors, the buds, and the sounds that surround you it will make a difference in your life. It will slow you down and cause you to refresh and rejuvenate your mind. It will put things into perspective.
So often we get caught up in the day-to-day chaos that we call life. It’s not easy to do, but if you can escape that bedlam and trade it in for five to fifteen minutes of solitude, it could possibly be the most important time you spend all day. Look, listen and experience the magic that you can only see and hear if you take the time to do so. And if you don’t think you have time to do this because your to-do list is too long, remember: “There is no present like the time.”