Wednesday

Singing Spring


The birds know the red buds of bush and tree are near to bursting and are singing the song of spring.  They may be singing spring into existence for all we know.  Having great quantities of information at hand I become easily convinced that I may know something.  That I may have knowledge of a thing.  But what do I really know of spring?

What do any of us know about spring?  We know we want the warming heat of it after the cold and ice of winter.  We know we want the greenery of the leaves and the pinkery of apple blossoms and the reddery of tulips.  The yellow heads of daffodils are commoners to be sure, having flung themselves out of any purchased bound at every opportunity, but are welcomed for their irrepressible liveliness all the same.  A measure of yellow for everyone.

So yes, we know of spring's generous nature, how all is given to all.  And how she enlivens us and has us pick up our step, lift up our heads and even hum a bit of a little tune.  A little tune? Conscious  or not could we be joining in the great song that brings her into being?  Could we be also necessary to the great workings of the seasons?

I saw a photograph once of what was thought to be one of the very oldest human-made musical instruments . A flute it was and made of bone from the leg of a bird.  The scholar whose life's work was dedicated to this little flute played a little song he thought may have been of the type played five thousand years ago in China on this very flute.  The name of the song was the little cabbage.  I heard a recording of the song as played by the Chinese scholar.  It was simple and very sweet.  Nothing complicated, much like the yellow daffodil.

We may be brave enough to be foolish enough to let the little song our hearts feel at the sight of the first yellows out into the open air.  Even if we are not so brave, the song in our proverbial heart may be joining in the great chorus all the same. We may be important to this planet after all. By adding our voices to the singing of spring into being we may be singing flowers into bloom, trees into green and eggs into their nests.  After all, what do any of us really know about spring?