#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

“April was just beginning, and after the warm spring day it turned cooler, slightly frosty, and a breath of spring could be felt in the soft, cold air. The road from the convent to town was sandy, they had to go at a walking pace; and on both sides of the carriage, in the bright, still moonlight, pilgrims trudged over the sand. And everyone was silent, deep in thought, everything around was welcoming, young, so near— the trees, the sky, even the moon—and one wanted to think it would always be so.”
― Anton Chekov, Short Stories

It was a challenge to summon the energy. Frank was already out tilling the garden with his new machine when I went out, tiredly, with Charlie. A short walk to the river; an appreciation of sunshine sunshine sunshine. I walked as far as the brook, deciding that I really should do at least a little gardening clean up. My legs want me to know I stood on them, used them too much yesterday, all the cooking and cleaning up. I look around to see what’s new, what’s coming up, anything from these brown leaves all around? But there isn’t anything all the way to the brook that interests me today. I turn back, and then I spot this little group of fuzzy ferns just coming up on the trail from my yard to the brook under the leaves, under the trees, they come up here every year. I bend down to appreciate them. This gives me great hope. Now, spring is breaking through. And I get my rake and my wheelbarrow and I rake and weed three small flower beds while Frank works and works the soil of the new garden. Sky radiates an intoxicating blue bright charm. The air is fresh. Soon, I put away my tools, remove my gloves, head indoors. It’s enough for today. I work on poems from the letters, happy to be seated, resting. Today I will not over-do. I keep dinner simpler, quesadillas, and my daughter helps with the prep. And a blueberry pie with refrigerated crust and frozen berries is easy enough and smells delicious and is mightily appreciated by one and all.