Green. Lots of it. Bare branches begin budding, then shooting forth tiny green leaves and before I know it green is everywhere. The trees and the grasses sport a lovely shade of green that I remember from my boxes of Crayola crayons from my childhood, aptly named "spring green."
Blue sky. Unclouded days. The gray of winter has lifted. Knowing that the summer haze will be here all too soon, I relish the bright, vivid, blue hue of the heavens. "Look how blue the sky is!" Tim and I frequently exclaim to each other.
Birdsong. I especially love to wake to the sound of the birds singing at the farm where we sleep with our bedroom window open once the gentle spring rains have washed the pollen from the air. And in the evening, the lonesome coo of the dove, the hoot of the owl and the call of the whippoorwill.
The birds, themselves. Such a variety. Robins, bluebirds, and woodpeckers are a few that I readily recognize. Tim and I have fun searching in our Sibley's Guide to Birds, trying to identify the lovely winged creatures. A few days ago Tim caught sight of a group of whippoorwills and the first hummingbird of the year.
The Canada Geese have been on the pond for weeks. Now Mother Goose, as we call her, sits on her nest. "Sarge," the name we long ago gave to Father Goose, patrols the pond and field around it, alert, on the lookout for any danger.
Flowers. Both the blossoms on the trees and the flowers growing everywhere, cultivated in yards and gardens in town, wild in the wide open expanses of country fields.
I especially love the wisteria; there has been an abundance of it this year, both in town and in the country, where it grows with wild abandon, its purple flowers climbing high up into the trees and enveloping ancient abandoned farmhouses.
Some of my other favorites include the orange masses of tulips nested in beds of purple violas and pansies in my brother and sister-in-law's garden.
And of course, azaleas. The massive banks of their delicate flowers, in a variety of pinks, reds, purples, and white, blanketing the fronts of the houses in our neighborhood.
Sunshine. Still not too hot most of the day. Perfect on the uncovered front deck on mornings at the farm or filtered through the lacy, green branches of the trees, gently warming me as I lie in the hammock on a lazy Saturday afternoon.
Drinking steaming coffee on a cool morning on the back deck at the farm, the gentle breeze tinkling the wind chimes.
Fishing. Although Tim and I begin fishing at the farm in March, in April the temperature is just right. Warm in the day, chilly enough for a wrap in the evening. It feels so good to be outside again, strolling through the green, green grass down to the pond. Casting out and reeling in fish so quickly that we lose count. John joined us on a recent weekend and we were all three pulling in fish at the same time. It was exciting!
Watching the setting sun cast a pink glow over the Ozark foothills as we eat dinner on the deck at the end of a glorious spring day.
April. It's one of my favorite months of the year. The earth comes to life after the cold, bare winter. It brings cheer to my heart.
