These days in early spring bring contrast.  Those first sunny days where you step through the door without a coat or jacket, without having to brace against the cold. They are invigorating, even for the very old. We then remember how the sap rose in us when the mornings were again golden and when light lingered long into the evenings. We were on the go then, stretching like new vines toward the sun.

Then, always, come the grey days. The cold returns and it all seems like a broken promise. We see the dark branches, still bare, moving in the wind against a dull sky. But we wait. We have learned to wait.