Oh, the beauty of birch trees. My father planted one outside my window in Kansas, but it only falteringly survived. Here, they thrive. And now that I have moved from the lower midwest to this place in the north- (yes, friends, it’s April 4th and there were snow flurries in the air this morning,) I can see birch trees from every window in my new house. One of my favorite walks, I think, just a quarter of a mile from here, will be through a forest of extravagant birch.
The picture in the banner above is fitting for my first post from my new life in this new place. Here, there are only hints of spring. I can drive you, just now, to patches of snow that remain. It is not yet green. Or warm. So, like our decision to move, we are waiting to see what is ahead of us. There is beauty here, in this nearly-over winter, but we have chosen to believe in summer. I have seen summer here, and it is lavish and generous and green. But it will not come in an hour or a day. So, until then, I’ll study the birches, and like them, wait for signs of spring.