The joy of spring

I kneel in the raspberry rows, pulling rebar from the ground to protect children’s bare feet, their original purpose of holding stairs long past.

Ten thousand bees surround me, exploring the new blooms. They each stop to say hello. Are you a flower? Can you feed me? Are you useful?

A sudden cry of delight from my daughter above. An eagle soars past, so close to her she can her the wind passing over its wings. “Daddy, it’s singing! The wings are singing!”