It was unaccountably spring when I stepped out of my door this morning. The earth was shades of brown and green, the snow completely gone, and the air warm. The gorgeous morning sunlight was on everything, turning the pines of the forest into almost a cathedral. A bird called sweetly and insistently from a distant tree. The crows called more raucously and clamorously.
The air smelt of spring, that fresh, alive, invigorating, earthy smell that feels as if it nearly imparts life with every breath. It was as if the earth had briefly shaken itself free from its winter slumber in impatient jubilation of the time when it would become a nursery of expectant life. Everything seemed excited, alive, waiting.
It was with great reluctance that I stepped into the door at work, knowing that it meant being imprisoned away from such beauty until it had shouted and skipped and flung itself away into night. But somehow just being there is enough. . .and I can see the gentle hand of its Creator on every branch, touching it in love. How much joy it must give him. . .
"he [Jesus] upholds the universe by the word of his power." (Hebrews 1:3)