Spring is my favorite time of year
When the sky is blue and clear.
Birds are singing all around.
Flowers growing from the ground.
This verse was the first poem I remember writing. I was waiting for my mother to pick me up from my piano lesson and I was twirling around the tree in Miss Joe’s front yard. Maybe I was 12?
The words echo in my head today as spring is here. A week ago the cypress trees were still brown. Today they are bursting with bright green needles.
My friend Mary, who is a master gardener, sends me a photo every other day of flowers blooming. The fields that haven’t been mown are sparkling with purple and yellow wildflowers.
When I take my morning walk, the birds fill the page on my Merlin app.
Spring is my favorite time of year.
Reflections on the Teche 