Last night I arrived home past dark, returning from a four-day business trip to Dallas. So it was only this morning, backing out of the driveway, that I noticed the azalea blooming. By the side of the driveway, this bush has consistently been the first in our yard to bloom.
After what seemed like an interminable winter, here’s welcome proof that spring has arrived, more definitive than the calendar or the teasing hints of warmer weather. I’m not sure why this particular winter seemed so long; I don’t recall the sense of an endless season since arriving in New Hampshire 13 years ago.
Thanks to the blooms on that azalea, I have a deep sense of renewal.