Almost Spring
Young children don't have a very clear concept of seasons. They assume that snow falls only in the winter, so any snowy day, even in October or April, must be a winter day. Some kids think that a sunny winter day, with above freezing temperatures, must be spring, even in January. And, now that March has finally arrived, children think it must be spring for sure, because the first day of spring comes in March.
Yesterday was a beautiful, breezy day. It was jacket weather, for sure. After church, Levi pulled on his green shorts and came downstairs to ask if he could wear them. I sent him right back upstairs to change into jeans, but he got to wear a short-sleeved shirt all day, and his winter coat stayed in the closet. It was a small step toward spring. We're counting the days.
Even though I am able to think more logically than my preschoolers (and my son), I'll admit that I, too, am hoping for instant spring. That's why I was so excited this afternoon, when I came home from school, to see that the daffodils and tulips have burst through the hard, dry ground near my front door. They aren't blooming yet, but their mere presence offers hope that winter will soon be gone. Not that winter has been too rigorous this year--we haven't had more than an inch of snow at a time, and only four or five times, at that. I'm hoping for spring showers, lots of them, rather than March snowstorms, but who knows? It seems as though western Nebraska gets most of its heavy snowfall in October and March. To tell the truth, I would welcome heavy March snows this year. As so many people are saying, "We really need the moisture."
Here in town, my neighbors will soon turn on their underground sprinklers, the lawns will sprout green grass, and the trees will have new little green leaves before we know it. But, without rain, the country hillsides may remain brown for a long time. I'm longing for lush, green grass because, aesthetically, I prefer it to dry, brown fields. I should probably be longing for green grass simply because it doesn't burn like dead, brown grass does.
Most farmers in our area irrigate their crops, but they are already worried that they won't have enough water this year. We've had too many years of drought. Some people blame global warming and universal climate change. Whatever the cause, it looks like our part of the country may be facing another hot, dry summer, with extreme danger of wild fires.
I'm looking forward to spring, but I'm dreading the thought of fires. We need rain--inches and inches of it. Hoping for rain doesn't make it happen. Will you join me in praying, every day until summer officially arrives in June, for rain? Or, if you prefer, you can pray for snow--it really doesn't matter to me. God is able to provide the moisture we need, in any form. But I really am longing for that sweet, sweet smell of rain.
Yesterday was a beautiful, breezy day. It was jacket weather, for sure. After church, Levi pulled on his green shorts and came downstairs to ask if he could wear them. I sent him right back upstairs to change into jeans, but he got to wear a short-sleeved shirt all day, and his winter coat stayed in the closet. It was a small step toward spring. We're counting the days.
Even though I am able to think more logically than my preschoolers (and my son), I'll admit that I, too, am hoping for instant spring. That's why I was so excited this afternoon, when I came home from school, to see that the daffodils and tulips have burst through the hard, dry ground near my front door. They aren't blooming yet, but their mere presence offers hope that winter will soon be gone. Not that winter has been too rigorous this year--we haven't had more than an inch of snow at a time, and only four or five times, at that. I'm hoping for spring showers, lots of them, rather than March snowstorms, but who knows? It seems as though western Nebraska gets most of its heavy snowfall in October and March. To tell the truth, I would welcome heavy March snows this year. As so many people are saying, "We really need the moisture."
Here in town, my neighbors will soon turn on their underground sprinklers, the lawns will sprout green grass, and the trees will have new little green leaves before we know it. But, without rain, the country hillsides may remain brown for a long time. I'm longing for lush, green grass because, aesthetically, I prefer it to dry, brown fields. I should probably be longing for green grass simply because it doesn't burn like dead, brown grass does.
Most farmers in our area irrigate their crops, but they are already worried that they won't have enough water this year. We've had too many years of drought. Some people blame global warming and universal climate change. Whatever the cause, it looks like our part of the country may be facing another hot, dry summer, with extreme danger of wild fires.
I'm looking forward to spring, but I'm dreading the thought of fires. We need rain--inches and inches of it. Hoping for rain doesn't make it happen. Will you join me in praying, every day until summer officially arrives in June, for rain? Or, if you prefer, you can pray for snow--it really doesn't matter to me. God is able to provide the moisture we need, in any form. But I really am longing for that sweet, sweet smell of rain.
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