Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Spring is Here

14. Shannon, James Jebusa - In The Springtime

“For winter’s rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.”

Dear Darling,

It’s finally warm again. We’re finally shaking free of winter’s arctic breath and making a run for the thawing sunlit highland meadows.

There is beauty to be found in ice and frost, but there’s something about it that makes us forget the world can be kind. Dead trees, gray skies and dull grass give us a sort of amnesia, burying the memory of warmth under layers of earthen frost.

In winter, weather becomes an enemy, a force to resist. Comfort becomes a constant struggle, and like any battle waged daily, we take for granted the days when didn’t have to fight.

Winter’s beauty wanes, and is masked beneath rude and bitter cold. It assails our senses, and we conjure fires, weave coats and summon the clearers of ice. The sun goes to sleep, and we hasten to work tense and shivering. We huddle under blankets and relish the memory of warmth.

Then it begins. Slowly, as if nature relaxes her freezing grip, the cold’s oppression eases off. The wind bites not as deeply. The sun greets us a little earlier each day, and a little later each night. It thoughtfully warms the car at day’s end, and we begin to feel a little safer and more welcome to go outdoors again. We declare a truce with the weather.

Finally one day it breaks. The truce becomes an alliance; color returns and the world is reborn.

The daytime blesses us once again with the verdant beauty and golden sunshine. And somehow, it surprises us every year: “Why! It’s nearly eight ‘o clock and still daylight!” Children take to the streets. Flowers bloom overnight. Birds sing. The stars smile again, and nights are mild and inviting. Shutters can be opened and shades drawn, new melodies sought and found. The heart brims with equal parts contentment and restlessness, borne on fragrant, hopeful breezes. The airs of spring seem to prompt both inspiration and desperation…a yearning to get out there and do something.

It’s funny, isn’t it, how every season has something to adore and abjure. These early days still sometimes revert to their frosty former habits, and fondly bring to mind the days not so long passed, when autumn was here and winter was coming. I guess life will always have something to appreciate and something to anticipate…reminding us that in life, we often must release one thing before we can have the other.

There was a rainstorm the other night, the first of the year and probably the first since last fall. The lightning came furiously and the rain poured. It was beautiful.

Today, the windows are open and the curtains blowing. The pastel blossoms are coaxed by the wind into a fleeting snow shower of petals:

In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin’s breast;
In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish’d dove;
In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

These will be our days too, someday. Spring reminds me of that, just as every season does. It reminds me that the days of constant toil and fret I feel won’t always be, that there will come days of peace and kindness, for us if not for the rest of the world. Spring is a season to share peaceful naps, fresh fragrant flowers and dinners on the patio. It’s a season to share trips to the beach, to plan summer trips. It’s a time for us to go for a run together, to find a place in nature all our own where we can relax and feel the sun on our upturned faces. I’m thinking of one or two places in particular, and I’m imagining me taking pictures of your smiling face with sunglasses, the wind blowing your hair.

I’m picturing me coming home with a bouquet of flowers I bought on a whim. You’ll pretend to be surprised, but you knew the fancy would seize me sooner or later, and you’ll still gush, kiss me and then go put them in a vase. You might just be getting home from work, or maybe you’ll be home with clean-scented candles burning. And one of us will say “it’s really nice out, let’s eat dinner outside!” I’ll cook some fish and you’ll make some vegetables or a salad, and we’ll just enjoy the sunset and each other’s company.

It can be hard to sit still in spring, but even harder to realize such abundant happiness awaits just a little further down the road.

I wish you an abundant and bountiful spring, my love, and hope the season’s wistful longing doesn’t overtake you as much as it does me.

Love always,
Beren

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April 18, 2013 Posted by | Loneliness | , , , , , , | Leave a comment