Spring has finally worked its way up my hill, and it’s beautiful. I live quite high up, (around 4,400 ft or 1350 meters). While it’s been full of flowers down in the valley for a few months already, the mountain flowers just coming out, at least at my height. The true, higher-up mountain pastures are still in the snow.
I’ve been picking flowers. Normally I don’t, because I find them prettier in the field than in a vase back at home, but this year I can’t help it, and they make me so happy. I thought I had a vase for small bunches of flowers, but I can’t seem to find it. I go for ones where there are plenty of them, the most common flowers, and pretty grasses sometimes, too. They stay on my table and bring me pleasure. I can look at their petals up close, and see the leaf patterns.
There is another recent thing which I enjoy in a new way; when I go in a forest, it’s like my eyes are breathing. There is no way for me to express how much I love it when I’m in a spring green forest, finally coming back to life after winter. I touch tree trunks and admire the low growth, watch the ants building ant hills and listen to birds. I wish I could turn green myself.