spring day - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Spring came as a perpetual birthday bouquet, as if each day were born of a fountain of eternal exuberance.
Upon this spring day the breeze is a sweet fragranced petal that wraps around me as shawl and flowing dress.
The blacktop streets absorb the spring sunshine as if intent upon sending heaven's warmth back through my soles.
This spring day is a love song, yet one that is morphing from melancholy slowness to happier and more uplifting tune.
Into the floral vibe of spring, my daydreams spread new tentative wings.
The spring day comes as new rain, warm and light, embracing the sense of freshness that abounds.
There is hope in the spring day, hope in the new green growth that flourishes upon the earth. If feel the warmth in the breeze that wasn't there a few days ago. I sense that the days are becoming lighter and brighter. And then there is the bud upon the optimistic branch, brave enough to bring forth such delicate leaves and open them into the sunshine.
The spring day opens with the same gentle pace as the new blooms.
Today the earthy wands of the trees, those limbs that stretch into the sky, are polka-dot green with so many new buds. They have shed their winter covers, the layers they sheltered within, and now bravely seek the sun, renewed in her brilliance.
Under that "Mum's biscuit tin" sky, a hue so gentle between cloud and baby-blue, I watched each bird upon wing. It was one of those spring days with a kiss of coldness that somehow heightened the warm rays of the sun. I paused to admire the flowers, to sense their aromas, to be in the moment with their transient beauty. Beyond all, it was a day of gifts, all there simply for noticing, for letting the steady nature-given happiness in.
The spring days were spent in the garden, Grandpa and me. He planted his runner beans, courgettes and more. There were the days of bright sunshine, blue skies that sung of the summer to come; there were the days of cloud-filtered rays, the ones that made the world so cozy. There were the days it began to rain, and instead of dashing inside we stayed in the garden to dance, to taste that feast of water. That was my world, we two, happy with the earth, sunshine and rain.
The winter time has passed in its somber majesty; having brought us skies of richly marbled greys and trees so elegant in their bare beauty. Those cold days for calmness and reflection are waning and a new energy rises. On this spring day, Tara sees the flowers that are to colour her world for the warmer days to come, waving in the breeze like a smile born of the cosmos - happiness in brilliant shades. She lets her eyes flow from tree to tree, noticing the buds ready to open into the light, to be as green flags in the ever-warming wind.
The grass is a runner at the blocks, ready to race for the light as soon as the weather warms. Fresh sunlight illuminates perfect spheres of water upon its fine green wands. With the chorus of the birds above, this chill day already feels as if it has a touch of magic, as if anything may happen.
The blossom arrives like cake frosting on the trees in delicious creams and pinks. The petals burst out from lower down the branches leaving the tips still in tight bud. After the denuded trees of winter their new and splendid clothes are a joy to see. I want a step ladder to get close enough for their new-season aroma. Though the calendar says it is winter for a few weeks yet, the trees tell me it is spring. In a few more weeks those petals, those perfect silky hearts, will flutter down as gentle rain. Just to watching them tumble will bring back memories of weddings, my own included. Fun times, beautiful times...
The flower that had been a tight bud only days ago had begun to open, already had a deeper blush of pink. The winter should still be in force but already spring had pushed it back to moderate temperatures and the kind of gentle breeze you don't notice unless you stop and be present in the moment. Ruth stretched out her fingers to touch the silky pink petals, they were cooler than she'd expected, smoother too. She tried to will it to open faster, to see the beauty she knew was inside. But nature has its way, its timing, and she wasn't ready yet. A few more days of warmth and it would bloom, she just had to wait.
Here we are, standing on a wide stony track, do you feel the breeze? I can see it moving your hair a little, I’m surprised. I didn’t think it would since you only visit me in spirit. Not that I’m complaining, I love your visits. I never thought you’d keep coming back but you do...just between you and me, I think you’re changing a bit. I see less sheep and a bit more lion, but there’s a way to go yet. This wind is somewhat cooling, refreshing in combination with sunshine. I didn’t think the rays would be so strong today but there’s almost a kiss of summer to it. To our right is a woodland that is almost out of place for this area of the world, there are buds on the branches denuded by winter and on the floor are still remnants of last season’s leaves, but then we were blessed with a mild winter. These deciduous types with their various shades of bark remind me of England, the branches awaiting new spring greens take me back to times long gone, but now isn’t the time for one of my mental detours. We aren’t here to see these trees, lovely though they are. Let’s turn to the right and cast our eyes over the scrubby flat land to the hill beyond...
River is soft, wending its way between the banks that are the new vivid green only the springtime can bring. In the post dawn light the water doesn't sparkle like it does at noon, instead it is mellow like a Monet painting. Up ahead is the bridge I stand on every morning, it's basic and functional, beams of wood from bank to bank with a rail on each side. Already my eyes are scanning the ground for sticks, I'm way to old to be playing pooh sticks but that's never stopped me before.