Glorious anticipation. Waiting, at the ready, hopeful of a season yet to come. The boys and I tromped through sugary crusts of slushy snow zigzagging our way around the woods, hunting maples. The rough black bark is a sure tell of a maple in wait.
The chatter of boys like chickadees banters playfully as we go. Stacks of buckets become lighter as hearts do too. The birds sing along their melodies in concert with our work as though greeting us as a sure sign of spring. The chorus of the woods drown out the hand drill as it silently works inward. Everything about this process is thrilling from the beginning.
Becoming immersed in the process and miracles of spring releases floodgates thawing rivers of gratitude. Awakening to joy, awakening to spring. So as the taps are in, I quietly reflect inward on a blessed and joyful life flowing with gratitude.