THE GRASS IS RIZ
We walked over to the Congregation House today for a Family Church service because Martin was singing with his little musiklek group. On the way, I discovered a long row of gigantic pussywillow bushes. Snowdrops are everywhere, and little purple and yellow crocuses have thrust out their heads. Tiny green buds tip each branch. The little creek along the snail trail slides like transparent quicksilver over the water-carved sandy bed and soaks the bottoms of the trees. A barely-there carpet of new, neon-green leaves is carpeting the forest floor, pushing up through the winter debris. Spring is sprung! Spring is...