|Lilac buds…swollen with spring's promise!|
A promise made is a promise kept…that's what I was always taught and what I still believe. If I say I'll do something, I do it, or at least do my best at trying. My word is my bond, a promise is my word…and a man is only as good as the words he keeps.
And yes, alas, sometimes I do forget. Not often and not on purpose. I don't know whether it's creeping geezerhood, irresponsible tracking, or some goofy form of selective memory—perhaps a subconscious process attempting an form of warranted self-preservation. I do know whatever the cause, when I promise to do something and fail to fulfill that promise, I feel awful, a terrible disappointment in myself for having violated my own honor and principals.
To err may be human, but I'm really not much good at adopting the devine relief os self-forgiveness.
Yesterday I made a slow circuit around the yard, checking on winter's aftermath and the state of the new season. Spring is here, or at least coming. How do I know? Promises! Buds and shoots, and rising sap–and an unmistakable electric green blush to a variety of growing things which they didn't show a week ago. Promises, promises, promises! Everywhere!
Which I believe. Spring keeps her promises!