At the depth of Winter’s dark dormancy, a spark–a glimmer of hope, the return of life. Quietly, without fanfare, bud’s blossom bursts.
In a forest of lifeless branches, a single sign of promise. This beacon of hope springs. As if telling the cold forest wood that again summer’s soft green covering will return. Without subtlety or conformance, the bud explodes color into its lifeless surrounding. We are alive!
