Sycamores in springtime

I love spring. I've always been grateful I was born at the beginning of the spring season. One of the things I miss most, living in a small city with relatively few trees, is the sheer volume of green I remember from earlier springs in other places. But even here, I remind myself, there's so much to see and rejoice in -- including the eight sycamores across the road. I took this photo a couple of weeks ago, when the leaves were still tender and new. They're already starting to take on a fuller, summery look now, but I think I like them best in this tiny, unfurling stage. They remind me to hope.

My daughter loves the sycamores too. She likes to find small branches and twigs that have broken off them, which we call "syacmore wands." That's because she likes to play "sycamore fairy" and dance over to the tiny scrubby pine trees bordering the nearby parking lot (some small cedars and firs she's absolutely fascinated with, and has begun hugging each day). She takes her sycamore wand and gently touches the little trees in a gesture of beautiful benediction.

I really do love spring. My sprit's been feeling winter-weary for such a long time, in so many ways (and my body too). Thank God for new seasons, new growth, new life.