I awoke to the sound of birds this morning — the unmistakable sound that spring has arrived. It’s the Easter season; a grand, glorious explosion of nature into the liturgical year to trumpet for us that God is life anew.
And the weeds are growing some kind of crazy in my garden. It’s barely warm enough to work the ground, yet all the gardening calendars tell me the time to plant is rapidly growing shorter. With every burst of green — even the weedy ones — I see the promise of the rich abundance of harvest time. It’s mine, if only I tend this garden well.
Please read the rest here. And I'd love to hear your thoughts. I'll be back to this space this evening to visit in the combox.