Outside yesterday, after a stretch of ice and bitter cold, a little green caught my eye.
I moved some dead leaves, and there, sure enough,
a few snowdrops were pushing out of the soil.
It reminded me that even in the deepest cold, spring is getting ready.
There's an ancient promise God made to Noah:
As long as the earth endures,
seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat,
summer and winter,
day and night will never cease.
The bluebirds seem to know this.
They were in the birdbath, lifting their heads in praise with every swallow.