At this time of year, I am reminded that I live a life surrounded on every side by beauty. To start with, my house is filled to overflowing with beautiful pieces of art from all over the world gathered during my years of working abroad. Two of my favorite pieces typify the splendor: a copy of the head of the Virgin from Michelangelo’s Pietá hangs on the wall above my reading chair in the sunroom. And a replica of the head of the Egyptian queen Nefertiti stands in an honored spot in my piano room.
But all that pales beside the magnificence of spring. Everywhere I look these days, I see the blooms of the season bursting forth. All around the pond at the back of my house are trees in white, pink, and red bloom. Below them are forsythia heavy with yellow blossoms. Then there are white and yellow daffodils waving in the gentle spring breezes. Nearby are azaleas, apple and cherry trees, and flowering quince. And the tulips are up, ready to loom.
In short, everywhere I turn I find the glory of new life springing forth. I know that it will be followed by the blaze of summer color, the melancholy of autumn, and the desolation of winter. I will be reminded again that the seasons are a metaphor for the ages of human life. I will be forced to remember that I am far into the winter of my allotted time on earth. But I’ll be comforted knowing that I’ll be around for more springs in years ahead.