<h3>All the Little Things</h3>

This morning the sun gently warmed me awake, while a wise chorus of birds enthusiastically sang their praises to the changing of the seasons.  Every year this happens.  Days gets longer and morning comes earlier and earlier.  The birds somehow know when spring has sprung and they announce their grateful spirit after a long hard winter - and this year I think it's satisfied a deep yearning within us all.  I'm so thankful for the change, as I am every year.  For me, this is an anticipated event!  

Not to sound like a broken record, as I've blogged about this before, but Spring inspires me.  It's Mother Nature's declaration of all things new.  It's beautiful, precious, and for me, a season to write - perhaps the season to write.  Everything I consume - sights, sounds, smells, the silky feel of a tulip petal - arouses my senses.  It evokes memories and teases me with thoughts of what's to come in the following months. 

I look forward to cruising my yard hand in hand with my daughters to see what flowers are up.  I name the blooms for them and we talk about what should be popping up next.  I pass on wives tales my grandmother shared with me when I was their age, and notice their expressions as they thoughtfully digest.  Memories in the making... 

This is the stuff of life that enhances your writing.  Being able to observe objects, people, responses, sounds, and everything imaginable is a great quality for any writer to possess, and one I often lack.  I need all the practice I can get, to solidify the story and create imagery that people can relate to.

And even if the words themselves never make it into the body of what I write, I'm certain their essence will remain.  Acknowledging our feelings and appreciation for life, fills us and frees us at the same time.  It's therapeutic and this great and positive focus on the little things, is surely reflected in everything we do and write.   

I'll soon turn in for the night, but when I lay my head on my pillow, I'll already be looking forward to the morning, when the birds will remind me of all the inspirations that will be waiting for me and will somehow  find their way into my own writings.