The coming of Spring
A week ago, I had the opportunity to go painting with some friends at Slide Rock State Park in Oak Creek Canyon between Sedona and Flagstaff. Down in the canyon, spring is weeks ahead of where it is in Flagstaff.
We enjoyed the red rocks, the rushing water that slips down mossy green channels, the morning light as it accented the landscape. I attempted to paint the light and shadows on the rock wall, but my efforts fell far short of my usual standards. Walking back to our cars, I spied a hedge of blossom and left the others to go on their way.
As I neared the blossoming hedge, the sweet scent of apple blossom drifted over me. The humming chorus of bees with heavy golden breeches of pollen sang to me. Behind the petticoated trees, red rocks soared in splendor,. But to me the treasure was each perfect starry bloom and the sheer profusion of them.
My heart has craved the spring, yearned for it. And though the grasses are parched silver brown here, these blossoms sing to me of hope, of rebirth, of things made new. To find such pristine and delicate beauty in a landscape that more often speaks of harshness and struggle was such a gift. An hour in their presence has nourished me through a long and difficult week at work.