Happy Leap Day

Today's The Writer's Almanac explained (very clearly, although I wouldn't want to paraphrase) why we have a February 29 every year. If you want to be filled in, check out this link.

By the way, wherever you are in the Universe -- Kelly Luedde and Derek Hudson -- Happy Birthday.

Although today's sky is the leaden gray of steel-wool, I saw a row of trees which had -- seemingly suddenly -- burst into snowy white blossom. It reminded me of a poem by May Sarton -- a keen gardener who always lived in northern climes. Her journals often describe her longing for spring. This poem is called Metamorphisis.

Always it happens when we are not there--

The tree leaps up alive into the air,

Small open parasols of Chinese green

Wave on each twig.

But who has ever seen

The latch sprung, the bud as it burst?

Spring always manages to get there first.

Lovers of wind, who will have been aware

Of a faint stirring in the empty air,

Look up one day through a dissolving screen

To find no star, but this multiplied green,

Shadow on shadow, singing sweet and clear.

Listen, lovers of wind, the leaves are here!