The azaleas are budding and blooming, and spring appears to be making a much too early arrival for my liking here on Pollywog Creek.
It's not the warm weather that causes my displeasure - who doesn't delight in the beauty of spring? It's the air heavy with moisture and the effort to breathe with these scarred lungs of mine and the fatigue that follows, and I find myself listing all the ugly swamps, vile weeks and sharp thorns in my life.
You should be grateful it's not 95 degrees yet, my husband reminds me. And he's right. I should be.
It's been my tagline for years - this cultivating an eye for life's mercies - a practice I've obviously not mastered. But I'm determined to stay in the battle for joy and with this woe-is-me nature of mine - and count the LORD's never-ending gifts instead.
{Photos - azaleas in my back yard this week}
