Green Promises and Unfurling Pages

Mother Nature has been a tease this year. A mean tease. How so? Well, if you don't live in Utah maybe she's been kind, but here, not so much. She flogged us with a long, long, long winter. Then she gave us some spring. And blue sky, the first in ages. I almost forgot what the sun looked like. And felt like. And ahhhhh. Talk about divine.

Then WHAM!

Snow.

For weeks.

See? Just plain Mean.

And it's not over yet. We're supposed to have storms for the rest of the week. But Mother Nature also gave us a promise. A glorious promise. A green promise.



Can you see the promises perched on the end of the branches like emerald stars?



See? HOPE. Little green morsels of it. It's enough to send my soul thrilling and eclipse the meanness and dull, dull ache of winter. And it teaches me hope in my writing as well.

I'm drafting a new novel and sometimes it's winter, as in the words don't come, creativity freezes up, and frost stiffens the story. Brrrr. Not fun. And sometimes the cold spell lasts and lasts.

But there, peeking through the drafting blizzard, are the new pages unfurling like green promises. Each day they grow, and more appear, and I KNOW a writing summer is coming with all it's color and warmth and fun and sun and holidays and pizazz!

So, as I sit by my window and struggle over words, I'll look up from time to time and drink in the green promises brushing the glass panes and type my way to summer.

What promises do you see today?