The Groundhog

Punxhatawny Phil might not be the best forecaster. He said we'd have 6 weeks of winter, but now, only a couple of weeks later, we find ourselves enjoying spring weather.

64 degrees yesterday.

I went outside and pulled some weeds. Tiny green shoots are forming at the base of the mums. Tulip stalks stick 4 inches out of the ground, reaching for the sun we've all been so hungry to see. (As they grow, they are eagerly gobbled up by fat squirrels. Some things never change.) Even my stupid cherry tree, the one we peeled all the bark off of in an effort to kill it, has a handful of scraggly pink blossoms on the tips of its spindly branches.

I know I shouldn't be fooled into thinking this is actually spring. The rain and wind and cold will return. But today, I'm thankful for small reminders of God's faithfulness to bring the dead to life, to renew his mercies every day.