There it was ... a bright dollop of sunshine in a tangle of forest greens, browns and silvery grays. The yellow door snuggled against a tree said Fairy Hall and, in tiny faint lettering beneath, No Trolls . Oh, how I'd love to know what goes on inside Fairy Hall. I wanted to tap on the door but, a giant by comparison, I didn't want to cause a scare. I often take the Sandy Trail with its gravelly path, woodsy stumps, well-trod stairs, rabbits, birds and squirrels. I know every twist and rustling sound. But I hadn't noticed the small door before. This unexpected bit of whimsy magic tucked into the forest floor made me curious about what else was in the mysterious thicket I'd yet to explore. When I continued on my way, the trees leaned in ... as if they had a secret to tell. Later, I found another fairy door (below), welcoming, but only to a select few. See OUR WORLD to explore more sights from around the globe and SIGNS, SIGNS . Still the kid I used to be ...
Beautiful photos and lovely poem.
ReplyDelete...spring is a tug-a-war between winter and summer!
ReplyDelete"Lone daffodil on a hill" - Yes that is a vision of spring - Great words.
ReplyDeleteYou have some beautiful spring snow.
ReplyDeleteThe daffodil is the spring town crier. The soundless bugle line reminds me of this poem I wrote: Reveille - Shrill daffodil / Bright yellow yell / A trumpet / for tight-lipped tulips.
ReplyDeleteGlad you shared your poem, Colleen. It's a wonderful way to describe a daffodil. :)
DeleteHere, too, winter and spring battle for the field. It seems that we're covered in snow yesterday. And today, flowers and budding things everywhere. A climate change bouquet, I think.
ReplyDeleteTransition time: Winter saying, "can't I stay longer?" and Spring responding, "It's my turn".
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem and photos!
ReplyDeleteWonderful ponderings on Spring! Love the phrase "the soundless bugle that signals" referring to the daffodil! That's how I'll see them from now on. We just got 15" of snow here near Denver, Colorado, so Spring is on hold for now. March can be our snowiest month, but will melt quickly, and the Iris leaves that were poking through will still be there - waiting for their chance to bloom... :)
ReplyDeleteLovely photos and poem ~ you are wonderful with words and have a great photo eye ~ thanks,
ReplyDeleteWishing you good health, laughter and love in your days,
A ShutterBug Explores,
aka (A Creative Harbor)
It is indeed amazing! And what a blessing to be here to experience it! I think and hope it will continue – but perhaps our particular life form won't.
ReplyDeleteI think that lone daffodil feels like a little warrior...insisting on rebirth. A beautiful mascot for spring.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed your flowers and your poem. In Vancouver proper we haven't had any snow for awhile but I still find it chilly.
ReplyDeleteI hope you could enjoy your pretty yellow blossom while you could, than you for showing its beauty to us. Our first rose opened a couple of weeks ago. I hauled the Hibuscus, a little potted tree flower, and my long leave whatever out of the garage yesterday. The other bloomers in the back yard are slowly coming up after an unusual freeze.
ReplyDelete..
Winter and spring (and even early summer) have been doing tag of war strangely all through this winter. Repeated big temperature difference so often caused the symptoms from the disorder of autonomic nerves. Strange spring tradition is not only in nature but in our hearts. Spring is the time of farewell as well as new start as academic year starts in April in my country.
ReplyDeleteDaffodil, Crocuses and Grape Hyacinth popping through the snow is a metaphor for hope and faithfulness, I think. You've said and shown that beautifully. (l love what Tom and Colleen said)
ReplyDeleteSo far pur daffodils have been free of snow. I don't think I could take any snow now. Lovely poem.
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