When we lived in South Dakota our lawn was bout 1/2 acre. During those 25 years, we never owned a riding lawn mower. We moved in the summer, so we were in our house for 26 summers. For the first 25 we used the same walk-behind lawn mower that I bought the year we moved into the house. The last summer, I bought a new battery-powered electric mower. With either mower it took me about 2 hours to mow the lawn. It was a good bit of exercise for me. Now we have moved to a house on a very small lot. Mowing the lawn takes less than a half hour. The lawn mower I bought in South Dakota is almost overkill for such a small lawn. I’m pretty sure it will last a very long time in this application. I mowed the lawn yesterday morning and commented to Susan when I finished, “Fretting over having to mow the lawn takes longer than mowing the lawn.” Actually, I don’t fret over it much. I have the right tools and it is a small job.

Mowing the lawn really made me feel like spring has arrived. Later in the morning, we met our son and grandchildren to take a look at a cherry blossom festival. The town of Ferndale, where we do quite a bit of shopping, has a grove of cherry trees that are part of that town’s sister city relationship with a Japanese city. In a community center, they also had a large drum from Japan displayed. They had arranged for demonstrations of Samurai armor and weapons presented by members of the Japanese Consulate Office in Seattle. There were activities for the children including simple origami, Japanese calligraphy, Japanese treats, and more. The children enjoyed the displays, presentations and activities. Because we were active in the sister city organization in Rapid City and have a Japanese exchange daughter and have traveled to Japan twice, we enjoyed the experience as well.

However, the cherry trees are not in blossom in Ferndale yet. We have two cherry trees in our back yard and they are not blossoming, either. They are just budding out, so blossoms are a little while away. Still, spring is in the air.

Our grandkids were in the mood for a burger for lunch, and there isn’t a good burger restaurant in Ferndale, so their father decided to drive into Bellingham to go to a good burger joint we know there. We had plans to meet my brother in Bellingham in the afternoon, so we joined them for lunch. High prices aside, the restaurant delivered really good burgers and it turned out to be a really nice meal. We generally have our big meal in the evening, but on occasion being flexible enough to have it at noon means we get in on some pretty good dining.

From there we headed to a nearby coffee shop to meet up with my brother, his wife, and a friend of theirs who played in a soccer tournament last evening. After we got home from that visit, there was time for a walk before we enjoyed a light supper. As we strolled through the birch forest on our way to the beach, the trees were alive with song birds. It not only felt like spring, it sounded like spring. There was a light onshore breeze so the sea air added to the richness of sensation with smells that are distinctive to our coastal location.

Walking in the warm sunlight in my shirtsleeves feels like spring, It sounds like spring, It smells like spring, It looks like spring. And if you imagine biting into a juicy burger surrounded by our grandchildren, it even tasted like spring. OK, I admit that is stretching it a bit. We eat burgers all year around.

Reflecting on yesterday as I write, I am aware of what a rich day yesterday was for our senses. And I am grateful that we have so many wonderful ways to perceive the world around us.

We belong to a poetry group. Our prompt for our meeting on Monday is the opening line of a poem by Mary Oliver:

“Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood.”

My reaction to the prompt initially was that the line is nearly perfect. What more could be added other than the poem that Mary Oliver wrote to follow it? And yet the line is worth pondering. I’m no poet, or, at least I identify with what the novelist Jess Walter said in his Whatcom Reads presentation, “I write bad poetry.” I dabble in poetry in part because I enjoy reading poetry so much.

I write essays. Thinking about the experience of spring inspires me to write about the mystery of the change of seasons as the equinox approaches. “Truly we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood.” I don’t understand all of the processes of the change of season. I don’t understand all of the processes of my own emotional reactions to the world around me. My life is filled with mysteries, most of which are pleasant as well as meaningful. And yet, I fell an urge to try to express some of that in words. The result, I guess, is that I write about things that I don’t understand. Perhaps I write in order to understand. Except, I don’t really understand.

Mary Oliver’s poem goes on to say, “Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers. Let me keep company always with those who say, ‘Look!’ and taught in astonishment, and bow their heads.” Like Oliver, I don’t need or want the mysteries of life to be fully solved. I am delighted to simply listen to the birds, without having to know all of their names. I am delighted to wait for the cherry blossoms without knowing which day they will appear. I enjoy being surprised by their sudden burst of beauty. I am delighted walking in my shirtsleeves and smelling the ocean breeze, sharing burgers with my grandchildren, or a cup of tea with my brother.

And I bow my head in gratitude for the surprise and joy and love that are parts of my everyday life. I am blessed.