Winter is different here in the desert southwest. While others up north have snow and more snow, we have sunshine days with a few freezing nights to keep us humble. Last night was one of those nights.
I awaken to the garden fountain frozen and crusted with ice, yet it still labors to move the water. The birds, hungry from a long night of cold temperatures are having a feeding frenzy at the feeders. Scattered around the fountain edge are bodies of dead bees. They drink from this fountain daily, but the cold snap must have surprised them.
I’m sad for the bees, but there is life in the garden, for a garden is a constant cycle of life, death, and rebirth.
spring’s eternal hope
from tiny seeds to blossoms
dVerse Poets Pub: Haibun Monday- Spring
View original post 5 more words