Winter was long, cold and silent. So still and frozen that some days while standing outside, the only sound was my own heart beating. And spring has been slow to blossom but it is finally here.
Today, Sunday, I noticed in the early morning “quiet” before lawn mowers started chewing and cars started accelerating that the leaves are finally big enough to create their own symphony for the boreal chorus frogs that are singing in the pond behind the house. And in the mix of it all, with thunder heads building all around but a bluebird egg sky above, rain drops began to fall like diamonds glinting in the sunshine.
This was only the second time I’ve been able to hang my laundry out to dry this spring and the clothes went from hanging damp and limp to bouncing on every note of the wind like dancers on a stage; the movement rolling from the far end of the line to the clothes nearest me as I strung them. It felt like they were alive, a rowdy chorus line of girls who’d had a drink or few.
I found the whole thing quite enchanting and my imagination lit up. When the clothes would take off in the air it made me laugh. It felt like I had a party going on in my back yard.
Something I noticed about the photos once I’d downloaded them is that it looks like the dogs, who were playing a game a of tug-of-war, were partners mirroring the dance that the chorus line of clothes was doing.
For some final fun, I added bubbles to the wind and Piper and True chased them around the yard.
It was just that perfect kind of Sunday.