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| April in Edmonton by David Cure-Hryciuk |
What was hard as iron now seeping through the grass, rushing down the curb to the drain, waking plants from their long sleep. The edges of my soul are lifting, my eye looks outward, my body springs forth jubilant, energized by warmer temperatures.
Spring has arrived.
All but a few tiny patches of dirty white stuff persist in the shade, buds are trying to bud while the ground is begging for a good spring clean waiting patiently for the lid to come off.
The sun is aggressive at the top of the afternoon on the deck, close your eyes and it could be May for a few minutes if you ignore the rotting damp smells around you. Hot and cold, dry and damp, light and shadow are engaged in a dance of alternating leads.
Spring is here.
Work draws to an end. My students are blades of grass weighed down with winter debris, dreaming of semester's end to lean heavily into the life-affirming rays of the sun.
Spring draws me into the garden, into my body, into a heightened social season, onto an island for a 20th-anniversary retreat with my 7 reading circle sisters.
Welcome Spring. Je t'aime.
