Grape Hyacinths

 Some people see these little bulbs as a nuisance. They reproduce diligently and have a habit of spreading in patches across a lawn. We just mow around them until they finish blooming. To me, they are one of the welcome signs that spring truly has arrived. Not only do their flowers look like grapes, they have a scent somewhere between violets and grape soda. I like to gather them by the handful and put them in tiny vases. There are always more in some other corner of the yard.

Courtyard Arch, Deruta

 Slowly, slowly vaccinations are becoming available. With them come dreams of what the future could hold. I am thinking back to days spent wandering up and down little hill towns in Umbria, where fewer tourists go in March. Deruta is renowned for its hand painted ceramics. Colorful tiles surround doorways. The street signs and shop names are ceramic, embedded in the walls. A family member often sits on a stool right inside each shop's door, painting dragons, putti or scrolling acanthus on a plate or a jug. I hope to return some day, to walk into every inviting courtyard and explore, unencumbered by fear.

The Container For Souls

 Last year, on March 10, a friend and I went to the Renwick Gallery to see "Hearts of Our People; Native Women Artists." That was the last time I rode the Metro and the last time I was in a museum. The next day, everything began to shut down. As the year wore on, I’ve thought a lot about the art we saw that day. One artwork in particular has taken on special resonance. Marianne Nicolson's wood and glass piece filled the gallery with her Northwest Coast culture's iconography. As we walked around it, our shadows joined the shadows cast by the glowing box. Much of Ms Nicolson's art is about the need for healing the landscape. Perhaps, through art, we have the power to also heal bodies, minds and souls.

Bird On A Bare Branch

 We are in that annual time of transition, waiting for Spring. The trees are bare, but the tiniest of leaf buds have appeared. A bird rides a branch, caught in the midst of a swirling gust of wind. He chirps and stays upright, like a seasoned sailor on the waves. The branches sway, forming ever-changing sets of diagonal lines. What a glorious sky! What lovely lacy patterns the smallest branches make! It's good to be alive on such a beautiful day, full of promise.