I spotted a tiny half egg shell with a feather beside it. What was its story? Did some animal raid the nest for his morning egg dish? Was the feather from the mother bird trying to protect her young? A beautiful vignette that spoke to my heart. The wild grape vines were beginning to bloom. I love the tender leaves that start as pink buds that unfurl to a soft green. The hard grey sticks of the vines sprout tiny bright green tendrils that twist and curl about any hand- hold that they can find. My friend thought that they were like us, reaching our thoughts up to God and our higher selves. We throw them up and hope to catch on something that will support us as we pull ourselves up higher. It is amazing the way a vine can reach across an empty expanse, truly flinging itself out there in mid air with no support, and by means of its tendrils, grasp onto a branch or leaf and begin to secure itself. The tendrils are amazing spirals of tight coils, they are taking no chances of falling to the ground, once they have found a support. I wonder how many times the vine does not find any support within its reach. What does it feel as it flies through the air with faith and then lands with a thud? Does this happen? Surely it happens for us as we live through the ups and downs of our lives. Yet, we too have faith and throw ourselves out there again and again, hoping to catch hold of some essence of our divinity that we can twine ourselves about and use to climb ever higher.