The seasonal cathedral has returned. The canopy of green spreads its translucent leaves across the trail. The early morning storms have exited east and rain drips off still wet oak. The sky filtering arms of the maple makes my prescription sunglasses redundant. 

The trail is laced with rivulets of water. The typically dry crevices have become flowing streams, running down hill.  The creek, often flat and noisy with protruding stones is spilling over its edges as it races toward the river. 

The air is fecund—robins singing, geese grousing, blue heron gliding,  bees buzzing, pollen sneezing. Life reproducing in the thick, moist air. Spring has finally birthed from the frozen season and life is swimming all around me.

The morning cool is damp—the liquid air presages the muggy heat that envelopes us later in the day as the sun makes it’s journey across the May sky.

And my heart is singing the line from the hymn we sang yesterday in church: “Blest are those who from this table live their lives in gratitude.” I am so grateful to live this day! It is hard for a heart that is alert not to overflow with sweet thankfulness.