Thursday 13 March 2014

Not My Last Spring

It is a beautiful spring day here in Calgary. The clear blue sky, azure and rich above me, stretches to a distant white edged horizon, clouds of cotton candy wisp and white slowly slide their was westward towards the mountains. The air is warm, or at least as warm as can be for mid-March in southern Alberta. The small birds are skipping in and out of my tree, chittering and chirping, singing to one another of the glories of spring's return.

These small birds flit in and out of my tree as if by common agreement, arriving in groups and leaving in groups. Their colours are bright, some with orange-red bellies and others with deep black crowns. They are smaller than my closed fist and freer than I shall ever be. Their life is short yet they seem to know little of worry or care. They eat, they sleep, they have babies. Their vibrancy and energy is a panoply, a living painting for me to see each morning.

I can hear the birds, and the traffic below, because only one of the two sliding doors on my patio is closed. These double doors are necessary to shield the indoors of my apartment from the bitterly cold winters than cover this country for four to five months a year. Springtime as I see it today is an impermenant state, likely to driven off by at least one or two more cold snaps along with a couple of sessions of "spring snow". It's not only Calgary that sees this intemperate spring weather; it happens all across Canada except perhaps in Vancouver where winters generally involve rain instead of snow.

Spring heralds the end of winter, the long season, and announces that summer is only a few months away. It is the beginning of summer adventures, road trips, exploration of the mountains, fishing. I can still do some of these things. I can still skitter about here or there, exploring the world around me, seeking treasure for my soul and spirit. I, like the birds, can still sing. I, like the birds, can still chitter and chatter. I, like the birds, can still venture beyond my tree. This may not be my last spring but I plan on enjoying it as if it were.

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