The memories of springtime
Lying in bed during a thunderstorm and listening to the raindrops pounding our old tin roof like thousands of miniature hoofbeats, as peals of thunder reverberated across the hills and hollows. There were times then that I would have been terrified, except for the fact that I knew Mom and Dad were nearby and everything was going to be all right.
A pair of bluebirds ﬂitting industriously from one garden fence post to another, searching for a hollow one that’s just right for building a nest and a home for their little ones. Suddenly, they alight near me and cock their heads saucily as if to say, “Hi there! It’s spring! So don’t just be a lazybone, start weeding the garden!”