Rebirth

We took an old trail today. It’s one I hiked when Grace was newborn and our dog was a golden retriever named Emma. The once familiar path is different now. It bends around fallen trees and diverts to avoid a spot where a chunk of the cliff has fallen into the river below. It’s wild to think that it’s been 17 years since this was my go-to hike.

Spring is painting the woods with color. Tiny, delicate bluets line the trail. Bluebells and trillium and dutchman’s britches glimmer like gems amid emerald leaves. Spring peepers sing, unseen, from ponds and puddles. Redbuds and dogwoods and crab apples are bedecked with flowers.

The great blue herons have returned. The woods are noisy with birdsong again. The woodpeckers’ rat-a-tat rings out through the trees. Muskrats are gathering grass to line their nests. Everywhere you look, life is returning. It’s such a joyful time of year!