“Earth is a wintry clod;
But spring-wind, like a dancing psaltress, passes
Over its breast to awaken it; rare verdure
Buds tenderly upon rough banks, between
The withered tree-roots and the cracks of frost,
Like a smile striving with a wrinkled face…
And God renews His ancient rapture.”

~Robert Browning, (British poet, in Paracelsus, 1835)

Jubilantly shared by Betty Hanselman
Gardener’s wife (& expectant spring celebrant)