|"Springtime Awakening". pastel,|
by Barbara Jaenicke
Driving through coastal Connecticut yesterday, my wife and I were impressed by the colors in the early leaves and blossoms on the trees. We both said we had never noticed so clearly the soft shades of trees in the first weeks of spring – the pastel pinks and crimsons and light grays and even subdued shades of white. The trees looked like sprays of the softest crayon colors – tall, smooth bouquets spread out along the roads. It was astonishing to me that never before in my 70-some springs had I noticed these understated nuances of color in the blossoming trees. I marveled at what I had missed, and I wondered, as I drove along, what other miracles had worked their wonders around me without my knowledge. What marvels had unfolded before me and I never noticed? And are they still happening constantly, like the sunlight that spreads around me every morning, and the air that effortlessly lifts my lungs, and the words that sometimes seem to write themselves when I’m writing?