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It is Spring and I ‘m listening to the first rains awakening the sleeping earth out of the arms of winter. It has been a few months since I came back to my beloved South Africa and I still have to wrap my head around the tipsy torvy arrangements of seasons.

My eyes behold the budding flowers unravelling like brides ushered out by a soothing blanket of warm air. Yet my head is still convinced it is the beginning of Autumn and a few months away from white Christmas.

Spring is associated with new life, allergies and a popular South African joke that it is also awakens madness in people. I can’t vouch for my mental states, but I am definitely fascinated by the birthing of new life all around.

My yard is sprouting with various fruit trees from the seedlings that I have acquired a habit of carelessly throwing all over. I crack my head guessing which of the new sprouts belong to which tree. But I remember a message that we will only know a tree by the fruit it produces. That means a few years of patiently watering and pruning these little mysteries until I get pleasantly surprised.

This analogy not only applies to fruit trees, but to people and situations too. We never fully know who or what we are dealing with, until a change of time and seasons reveals the fruit or the reality of situation. Then there is no more guesswork. We are given a chance to embrace or discard the fruits springing out of the various seeds planted in different areas of our lives.

This spring however, I am embracing the rebirth of my writing voice, which has been lying dormant for a while. I am embracing the re-awakening of hope, of voice and purpose. I am grateful to re-discover that which gives me sanity and rest amidst all kinds of things that the spring rain is awakening into the light of impending summer.

Wishing all writers renewed inspiration, under any season your pen and paper meet.

God bless Africa!

pearl.m

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