Down in the woods behind our house, along the swampy forest edge, we go searching for our favorite harbinger of spring.
The world is still painted in shades of brown down here, and it is not difficult to spot the delicate beads of fuzz illuminated in afternoon light.
Each girl chooses a small branch, following the contours of buds with her finger tips . . . drinking in the silky softness. She compare branches with her sister: little kitty sizes, shapes, texture.
In moments like this, I do believe the tiny gifts of new life are the very best gifts of all. So simple. So generous. So complete.
This is our spring.
My mom continually inspires me with her creative projects. And so I’ve decided to start a series: Susie’s Knits.
This delightful little blue bird (pattern from Itty-Bitty Toys) folds neatly inside its underbelly — transforming into a pale white egg.
The egg fits perfectly its furry, brown nest . . . where it snuggles for a while . . .
Until it’s ready to hatch back out again!
For every Bird a Nest—
Wherefore in timid quest
Some little Wren goes seeking round—
Wherefore when boughs are free—
Households in every tree—
Pilgrim be found?
Perhaps a home too high—
The little Wren desires—
Perhaps of twig so fine—
Of twine e’en superfine,
Her pride aspires—
The Lark is not ashamed
To build upon the ground
Her modest house—
Yet who of all the throng
Dancing around the sun
Does so rejoice?
— Emily Dickinson