This afternoon, a lovely warm “teasing us with the promise of spring” day, our Princess came bouncing in from the backyard, where she and Cooter had been playing with Miss Sophie.
Bounced. Yes. She hardly goes anywhere that she doesn’t bounce. Or skip. Or dance.
I think walking might not be quite joy-filled enough for her.
She had something behind her back.
“Mama, do you have a little vase or jar?”
I shook myself out of the fog that the migraine had me in. “A jar? Ummm. Maybe. Why?”
“Because!” and with a “tada” flourish and a great big smile, she held out a handful of purple flowers picked from our backyard. A little bouquet of them.
I knew where the perfect little jelly jar was and when she had them all arranged, oh how lovely!
And so filled with memories.
These are the same little flowers that she has picked every year when Spring starts pulling out her best dress and showing off a little, giving us a little taste of what we can expect when she decides to move in and stay with us for a while.
The same flowers I remember Aub and then even more years ago, my baby brother, picking for Mama. She always ALWAYS put them in the little vase and set them in her kitchen windowsill.
And the same flowers I picked for her way before that. And for my Granny. And the same ones I believe I might have seen yesterday in a bouquet picked for my Aunt on her birthday by her sweet grands.
Picking those purple flowers has become quite the “first sign of Spring” tradition in our family.
Tonight I’m thankful for the joy of young ones in finding just the right bundle of flowers for the ones they love. I’m thankful for the sunshine and the warmth and the thawing of toes and fingers and noses and–here’s hoping–of hearts. And I give thanks for the Artist and all the ways the color purple is used to bring joy and Light, and how that reminds us that the cold darkness of winter will soon pass. And the birds will keep on singing.
Love to all.