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Read them at The Stranger Looks Back.

The Girl With April In Her Eyes

The bleakness of the winter had passed, its last raging storm now a memory, the snow replaced by the sprouting blades of grass. Recently barren branches flourished with green buds. A newly planted tree blossomed in two directions, chirping birds flitting back and forth between the branches of the double trunk that was yearning to touch the sun.

The gardener was pleased. The winter had been a bleak one, the sun making only feeble efforts to break through the grey. Little snow had fallen, as though the constant clouds couldn't be bothered to wake up very often.  The more the gardener had wondered if the winter would ever end, the less he had cared.

The last storm had been a violent one, a welcome contrast to the unending bleakness. In its way, the struggle to survive it had given the gardener something to care about. A winter's store of unspent energy had unleashed itself without warning; faced with its fury, his complacency quickly drowned in a flood of adrenaline. At the point when he genuinely feared for his safety, the howling winds and blinding snow stopped as suddenly as they had begun.

Now, the gardener was enjoying the soft breeze, the melodic twittering of the hungry chicks, the warming rays of the vernal sun. The intermittent light rain was the finishing touch on perfection. From time to time, a raucous crow would happen along, and the chicks would scatter in confusion, returning to their perches after the scavenger departed. The occasional thunderstorm would give the garden a much-needing washing down.

Although at times it seemed as if it would, the spring did not last forever. The gardener did not mind very much when it was over, not nearly as much as he had once imagined he would. This particular spring had played out its role in the cycle of things, as he always knew it would, as it always does. While he would ever cherish the memory of it, it was time for another season, and he welcomed the dark clouds that had just appeared over the horizon.
 

15 comments:

DanWins said...

know that feeling, and watching a garden right after a good rain you can almost see things grow.

The Author is Unknown said...

The circle of life, eh?
Love this post.

Cayman said...

Love the imagery here. It's hard to get to the point where those dark clouds aren't the portent of something bad, but the beginning of something new, but I guess you did it. My favorite post.

Mrs Midnite said...

Great post Legacy, everything changes!

J.C said...

Beautiful and elegant.

Anonymous said...

As usual, a moving post.

Of course, after reading the Author is Unknown's comment I am humming the theme from the Lion King.

Is that bad?

The Beans said...

Reminds me of when I experienced the change from winter to spring in France. The seasonal changes are truly special to behold. They give hope.

There is an excellent level of poetry in your prose. Good job, Legacy!

-French Bean

Daughter of AraBia said...

interesting post
very romantic (and no not in the lovey dovey sense, in the choice of vocabulary and thought)
the post is very thought provoking

The Quiet Riot said...

I'm only commenting so you'll know I come...and I read...and I let your words flow around and through the essence of my being. You seriously need to do a really thick novel so I can buy it and spend an entire summer inside your world.

Lou said...

I am your newest follower! I really enjoyed this, particularly the alliteration of all the 'b' words you had going in the first paragraph. Gave it a great sense of rhythm. Great read. :)

the wid0w said...

nice flow pure poetry. got a fair way with words yourself there fella

J C said...

The imagery in the short story is very evocative. I could almost see myself in the garden.


http://www.futuretwit.com

Kate Mohler said...

Who is the girl? Seems like a fast spring. The writing itself draws in the reader. More, More!

Kelly said...

Ah gardens....my soft spot :) And beautifully written, of course...

kikinotdee said...

I find your words so easy to read you manage to grip me in the first few lines, so I am with The Quiet Riot....you need to write a book.