The sun this morning rose in salmon-colored haziness.

Here in Northern Michigan, the snows of February and early March had settled into late-winter glaciers. But, this morning, the driveway was spongy with melting snow.  I think I heard a red-winged blackbird give it's distinctive guttural chirps. The damps had a freshened air to them.

Later, the sky that had the early-morning palette of an orange push-up, gave way to a faultless blue sky, tinged here and there with lemon. All around, the steams were puffing off the frozen lakes, and in the afternoon, as the warming air got rolling, I actually was obliged to lower a window as I drove-- the first time I'd done that, most likely, since before Halloween. At lunchtime, I noticed in my wife's flower gardens the first tips of the crocuses peeking out from under last years coconut bark, sniffing the air. Spring is breaking.

As I walked out the front door of a clients' restaurant later this afternoon, I noticed the little rivulet in the storm drain nearby. It reminded me of my long-ago and glorious childhood, floating little pine-cone boats in the snow melt of so many springs ago-- making dams with the slushy snow, and then watching the water pool behind them, and then breach the sloppy walls, and the waters would tumble in the gutterpan like a Lilliputian Jonestown. The sap would be running. The earth is once again coming to life.

The world is on fire, yes. Ka-da-fee (however the heck they're spelling his name this week) is running roughshod over his people. Japan is a disaster. The currency is teetering on the brink. Our Republican lawmakers are turning out to be as feckless as we feared they might. The US government breathed today, and went another $72 Billion in debt. But, hey, at least we cut $2 Billion. The Middle-east is about to explode, and our Fearless Leader is hamming it up for the basketball crowd. Ho, hum.

But, today, I noticed that, pace King Solomon, it is all vanity, vanity. No matter how much I worry about it all, God is still in control. He still packs a mighty punch, especially when a spring sunrise hits you, and the glories begin to open all around you.

God, what a lovely place You've given me to live. Thank You for today.