It's the beginning of another week, and I am sitting on my porch enjoying the peace and quiet of an early spring morning. The windows are wide open for the first time since we began closing out the cold winds of winter. The sounds that touch my ear are those I recognize from springs gone by, just as familiar and just as welcome.

The drip and splash of two backyard fountains, the chatter of a pair of squirrels arguing over who gets the sunflower seeds sprinkled on their feeding table, never for a moment admitting there is enough for everyone. The house and yellow finches flutter and chirp gently while a pair of orioles peck silently on orange halves adorning the spikes of a Hawthorne tree. In the distance, I can hear the soft whisper of the traffic as humanity begins another day. A siren passes and I wonder who is in trouble so early and I hope it is not serious.

Now a pair of blue jays have added a new color and personality to the tapestry being woven before my eyes. They are proud, arrogant and flashy among the quieter, gentle flock already gathered. I am reminded of some humans who display similar traits -- not necessarily inappropriate, just not very subtle. The thought crosses my mind, Am I a jay of sorts? I do not think so, but perhaps others do.

The ferns have exploded upwards, seeming to grow almost a foot overnight. The Virginia Bluebells have peaked and are fading like a blue bonnet worn too long beneath the hot sun. Bright yellow iris blossoms replace the dying daffodils. This is the first year for a new perennial garden, and each sprout is a surprise. The rabbits are anxious to see, as well, which new leaf or petal will be the tasty treat nipped off during the night.

Nearby, a chickadee hammers open a safflower seed shell to gain access to the sweet meat inside while, on the other end of the same branch, a wren trills forth his song. Such a loud sound coming from such a tiny body. A pair of them pop in and out of two birdhouses outside our bedroom window. Will they take up residence again this year, and which house will they choose? How nice to think we might have our bedrooms side by side.

The birds are constantly in motion, always catching my attention as they move about. But just as pleasing to my eye are the tiny chartreuse tips on the evergreen branches waving in response to a gentle breeze, signifying that they too have survived the rigors of winter and are glad to be alive and growing. They are like little green hands that peek out of last year's sleeves which are now too short.

I could go on and on as my eyes traverse the yard, each area creating a mood of its own, each special in its components and design. For me, all that I see affirms the power and order of the universe. It is no accident that life and beauty return each spring to stand in all its glory where dark and dormant stood just a few weeks before. The musical sounds I hear are as much a choir in praise of God's work as any performance by Sunday morning singers. These are the unrehearsed notes of joy at being alive. The fruits of our labor have paid off, and our landscaping efforts bring to me a peace found nowhere else.

I will miss this sanctuary when we move to Arkansas, but I know God is there too, and we will once again surround ourselves with the beauty of His world. I hope whoever sits as I do and looks out these windows will find the solace of spirit that it has brought to me. And I pray that each of you has found a special place of your own where the renewal of spring seeps into your soul and you can sit for a few minutes basking in the joy of resurrected life. Yet we know that the corner of the universe which we can see is but a microcosm of His work, and beyond our tiny space lie the mountains, the valleys, the rivers and forests of His world. How blessed are we to come after the Genesis where there is light.

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Jan Burgess moved to Bella Vista in 1995. She considers each day a gift -- although some are more fun to open than others. The opinions expressed are those of the author.