Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love!– Sitting Bull
Early last week it was nothing but chilly and cold … it chilled my body and my soul. I had had it with winter.
But, two days ago, things changed … almost over night … without advanced notice … a sunrise surprise … spring had sprung and was painting splashes of bright colors all over the dark, drab ones with giant brush strokes here there and everwhere.
My hands shot up toward the heavens and I shouted, “Hallelujah, you made it!”
Purple martins and I stand united in our lack of tolerance for winter. In late fall, they escape in mass to South America, and spend the winter months in the warmth of their second home. Then they fly all the way back here, where they were born, bringing spring with them.
Yep … these little North American citizens fly over 5000 miles each way, each and every year, like clock work. And, here they are, back where they were born, to find a match, and to hatch and raise the next generation.
My mom, dad and sister hoisted five purple martin bird houses up on tall poles in their backyard when they moved back to Richmond, forty plus years ago. That was the same time they planted the daffodils. The one mom is holding sprang up from the roots of those original plants.
As a result of my family’s efforts, Melissa and I will have plenty of daffodils and plenty of purple martins. My guess is, counting the adults and their babies, we’ll have well over a hundred purple martins hanging out and performing their aerial acrobatics for us in mom’s backyard (conveniently located next door to where we live).
My mom’s maiden name is Martin, which we have always said makes the purple Martins and us kin. Birds of a feather stick together!
This will be mom’s 94th spring … and spring has always been her favorite season.
Spring is a time of renewal, restoration, resurrection … it is a time for rejoicing.
Hallelujah, you made it!