Along the drive through the woods to the house, under the winter brown riot of honeysuckle and tear-thumb vine, regiments of daffodil leaves muster for the first assault of the new season. Soon, the dark ground will crumble and heave out new growth of every sort, from early flowers to the first clacking, leggy hordes of bugs that make a gardener’s life so full and varied.
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Storm Memories and Musing
by Terry Burger · August 8, 2010
I think I like being reminded that humans are really not as in charge as we’d like to think we are. Few things do that as well as extravagant weather. Storms are random. Nature itself has its own purpose, its own dance to perform.