February 7, 2011

When I was a child on the family farm, sometime in late April my sister and I would start begging to be allowed to go outside barefooted. On the early May day Mama deemed the ground warm enough and finally gave her permission (I was such an obedient child I didn't take my shoes off until given permission) I was full of the delight of free feet. The fact that all my calluses had softened over winter so that even fine gravel was hard to walk on did not diminish my joy.

The bare earth that is appearing around the bases of our trees reminds me of that experience of going barefoot. Here are the trees whose feet have been encased in cold, white shoes of snow, and now they are being released. Free feet. I can almost feel their toes wiggle.