Spring-like sunshine so very good for the spirit.
A sort of heart-warming soup for the soul.
Saying goodbye to the dog days of winter.
Change happens slowly.
Not yet the glory of golden daffodils.
Tiny buds tight against the cold.
Slowly turning.
Slowly turning.
Slowly turning.
Deviation, hesitation, repetition.
Were I a fungus how slow would I go?
A Nature’s Fire : Natural Signs of Growth inspiration
Oh Julie… this is lovely… I am particularly enamoured with the last question! Thank you once again for sharing your reflections
Thanks for the delicious prompt, Joanna!
Everything felt like it was happening excruciatingly slowly last week. Like, if the crocuses and snowdrops were removed, it would still look almost exactly as it did last month – but of course, that’s not the reality at all: how it looks, isn’t always as it is…
My answer to the question is really only clear now – if I were that tree fungus, of course I’d be that slow, for that would be me being me. How clear this all is from my perspective of a week later (and asking the question). x