What I see, what becomes easy to see for any eyes, in the gentle month of May, is an approach to prodigality. We are not yet bitten, dulled, and pounded down by population, of insects or men. Blistering droughts have not come yet, nor excessive rain; but all the component parts of nature run ahead. Through the alternately warm and cool sweeps of weather, there is a steady pattern of growth. This is the season of progression, of fanning out, and as with the trees that have formed next year’s buds, of provision for the future. The oak leaves which are limp and tiny to begin with, develop gradually. They toughen and mature toward their summer function of receiving and storing. They stretch, darken, and shine, turning from tenderness to ability. So it is with the fish hatched from the egg, or nesting birds, or the grass in the ground. To have had a son born this month, as we did, is much in keeping. Birth is now the rule. I smell a sweet salt air. White petals drop gently to the ground. Birds, trees, and plants, life in the ground below them, are sprung by a constructive light. To follow spring is to make use of yourself. Join and be. Here is as much expanding energy as the human spirit could desire. Aspiration meets its counterparts, on all sides. If, as man says, he represents a climax of sensitivity in the evolutionary sense, then let him now employ his consciousness for all it is worth, and not delay. Spring is loud and rich in its coming, but it is exact too, with a sustained propriety. Each life is in its place, its shade or full light. Each, held in the general change and roaming, to its necessity. Fragile star flowers and wind flowers bloom in the shade of a wood of beech trees, while out on the open slopes and fields the beach plum bushes are heavy with fat white blossoms, inviting the sun’s full strength.