Spring-RIP Uncle Joe

I crossed the front lawn to the lilac tree at the edge of the road. A large branch was hanging by a toothpick, dangling in the wind. With a slight tug it came undone. Another casualty of winter.

When I think of spring, I mainly think of new growth; strong little sprouts, pushing their way up to the light. Today I was noticing the litter left behind;  the  tangle of black-eyed susans and cone flowers papery stalks jutting out from the dried, curling leaves. But as I dragged the rake through the debris, precious bits of jade sparkled in the sunlight.