The Middle Peninsula

February 28th is a special day in our house,

so we took the day off from work 

and set off for new sights and scenes.

We traveled a short distance out of the Shire 

to Virginia's Middle Peninsula,

setting our GPS for the little town of West Point,

a place where every street has a river view.

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West Point is named for a man named West,

and Point because the original part of the town

was established on a small peninsula 

at the confluence of two rivers:

the Pamunkey and the Mattaponi.

The Pamunkey and Mattaponi are Native American Indian tribes.

We didn't get as far as the Pamunkey Reservation Museum,

but it is said to contain artifacts from Pocahontas 

and the reservation, the burial mound of the great Chief Powhatan.

Beautiful bright sunny day, 

friendly people,

beautiful wooded scenery

and mighty blue rivers.

A lovely way to end the month of February.

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That Spring Feeling

When I arrived at work today,

I saw another sign of spring.

Three white-tailed deer ran across the green space

behind my office building.

Suddenly the third  ran back the same way it had come

and began to hop around in a spirit of unbridled joy.

Photo: James Donner www.country-magazine.com

The wind was sharp and cold, but the day was sunny,

and I can only imagine the deer 

were responding to the whispers of emerging spring.

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And Spring Shall Come

Icy cold weather arrived here in mid-January

and rarely left.

And tonight, it is windy and cold yet again.

People begin to wonder if winter will ever loosen its grip.

I'm often one of them.

camelliaexpress.wordpress.com

But yesterday and today, I noticed a few signs of impending spring:

daffodils, some almost ready to bloom;

the muted, early blossoms on a crab apple tree;

pink camellia buds in my backyard;

imperceptibly tiny shoots on our redbud trees.

It occurs to me this is a metaphor for life:

even when things are darkest and coldest, 

unseen hands are gently pushing better days forward.

Things are improving, despite appearances.

And spring shall come . . .

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