A FEBRUARY MORNING

A February Morning

Morning has broken, like the first morning

Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.

Praise for the singing, praise for the morning

Praise for them springing fresh from the world.

Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from heaven

Like the first dewfall, on the first grass.

Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden

Sprung in completeness where his feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning

Born of the One Light, Eden saw play.

Praise with elation, praise every morning

God's re-creation of the new day.

Remember that song by Cat Stevens? Did you know he converted to Islam and is now Yusuf Islam? I have always loved that song.

I could not help thinking of that song when I went outside this morning. February, here on the Eastern Shore, can be bitter brutally cold, or it can be a beautiful gentle reminder that spring is on the way.
The robins returned February 7th, right on schedule. Of course, we have a few robins here year round. I figure they are the robins from up around Caribou, Maine where it is below zero from September – to June. Well, OK, I exaggerate, but it does sometimes seem that way. http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=caribou+maine. Or Mt Washington - http://www.wunderground.com/cgi-bin/findweather/getForecast?query=MT+Washington+NH. Well, OK, maybe not that bad, but it might as well be for all the complaining that goes on.

On Sunday, we had snow! I swear I saw all 47 snow flakes come down. It was so exciting. Well, there might have been a few more – that was just out the front window.
Anyway, a nice February morning is truly a delight. I think it is the promise – the promise of daffodils – the promise of azaleas and camellias – the new garden growing in my mind – seeds begging to be planted.
The birds have changed their songs. New birds have moved back into the yard back from the winter spent in warmer climes.

The little goldfinches look so silly with their patchwork of colors as they change into their show-off breeding clothes. Territorial chattering starts about a half an hour before the sun comes up. I am so grateful that is earlier – makes it so much easier getting out of bed.
Baby digitalis have survived and are looking good.
The camellias are trying to decide if this is just another trick or dare they really start to bloom again? The old flowers, frozen almost instantly a few weeks ago, stand as a reminder to a warm January and a frigid February.
The crocus is making another attempt at blooming as the daffodils push their buds up ever higher.
Even the new blueberry plants have started to leaf out.
Punkin loves the warmer days, love sunshine and long walks thru the woods. He also loves to roll on the moss.
In another week or so, I will have to clean up the gum balls. Sigh. The trees are so beautiful and strong, why did god put those nasty gumballs on them? But Punkin will roll over in almost anything.

I have retyped this thing over a dozen times and blogger keeps rearranging it differently each time. It has taken Morning Has Broken and lumped it is one continuous paragraph, and then the next time I look at it - each line has 4 or 5 spaces between it and the next line. So far I am not impressed with the "new and improved" version that I was forced to accept the other day. How about you? It has not made it faster or easier... it has taken me an hour and a half to down load and retype and retype and retype or respace, backspace... etc! AAAAAAAAAARrrrrrghhh!