Spring

Although fall is my favorite season, spring is none too shabby itself. In fact, when we are blessed with the generous rains we often are in spring, Central Texas explodes into lush greens and bursts into wild blues, yellows, reds, whites, and pinks along roadsides, parks, and throughout pastures. It is a glorious time of year. The only thing wrong with spring where I live is that it ushers in summer—the season of dread for the hot-natured among us less rugged souls. Though a native, I have never learned to adore summer. But in spite of the fact that July and August have been known to melt steel in these parts (only a slight Texas tall tale), I have decided I can no longer afford to eschew an entire season out of every year. I have decided to appreciate every season, discovering its own special joy—sweat and all.

Today, finally in the throes of a much anticipated and longed for rain, I came across a Robert Frost poem that reminded me of my promise to myself to savor every season. In “A Prayer in Spring,” the speaker reminds us all of the joy of “living in the moment,” of finding pleasure in what God has wrought, of being thankful, and of seeing God’s love.

A Prayer in Spring

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the certain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees, 
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill. 
Robert Frost