Seasons Series (II/IV): Spring


There's something about Spring that just makes it so full of life. The singing melodies of the red robins, tuneful and harmonious, gentle to the ears. The flitting of butterflies from the pink daisies to the blue tulips, to the red roses and the white lillies — with their exotic wings of various stripes, and that one outstanding butterfly with wings that appeared to shimmer under the warm sunlight. Busy creatures, they are — just like the honeybees that buzz their way between the fields of tall grasses, in and out of their lush yellow combs, leaving behind faint traces in the light spring air. 

I take in a deep breath — ah, spring the smell of fresh blooms and new beginnings. He carefully steps on the spaces between the sunflowers that stood so mighty and tall. I watched him bend over and tug on the stalks of those who were visited by the butterflies and I catch myself smiling at his actions — a consolation for ending your life would be letting your seeds take flight and plant themselves elsewhere, where they would once again grow mighty and tall. I wonder what he's doing — probably waiting for a girl, all decked out in his dark tie and shined shoes, a bunch of sunflowers in hand, all the best — I thought.

As I walked down the forest path, with trails of lavender that bloomed in deep shades of violet lining it's edges, I see an old couple in the distance, walking hand in hand. They could've been 70 odd years old but they laughed and talked like they were teens in love. The energy, the passion, the unending side-glances — such real things that truly shows what it means to be alive — the same way the Spring forest shows what it means to be alive. Every other minute, there would be another bud that blossoms, another sprout that grows a couple of centimeters, another fruit that ripens, and another one that falls. But for the one that falls — it isn't a tragedy, it's just waiting for it's turn, for the hands of Mother Nature to sow it's seeds and protect them well, just so they can sprout into another plant — one that would eventually stand strong with it's lush green leaves and fully bloomed pansies in the midst of a forest full of colour, full of life.