Brave

Like an old friend the warm wind skipped up from the south and filled the farmyard.  Up the road, out of the yard the light purple furry crocus strains towards the sun. Rain from the night before, still lingered on the edges of the petals.  That fresh smell is everywhere. The one you can't quite name, it reaches into your very soul and fills it up with joy. Every breath is an upper. It's juicy. All the grays and browns are defeated and set back to their dull master. Ah but the secret is underneath. Green is there and yellow and that unusual shade of red reserved for the cockiest of tulips.
Tiny fluff ball kittens mew after their mumma and cross the yard to find a shock of sunlight to safely lounge in. Murph the old farm dog raises his head and listens for his master’s voice. He has already found a spot to take in the sun. First lazy bumble bees sputter and bump as they set to another season of fetching home the sweet parts of everything.
The bleak days are over. The puddle fun and mild air hold a promise of more. Sleepers of all kinds awake to find new life. White sheets snap on the clothes line. A small princess dances between them and the old dog lifts his head at the sound of her parade.  She is wearing her bright yellow boots and her tiara. Her jeans and torn shirt go with the outfit because she is not a frilly princess, she is a strong princess.  Bare feet are the order of every day as socks are for sissies. In and out she weaves as the sheets become walls of the castle. Murph stretches and falls in line behind her bringing shouts from the kitchen window. 'Get that mutt away from my fresh laundry'.
Racing away towards the rope swing she beats Murph to the seat. He never has tried to swing, but she thinks the only thing stopping him is that she always wins. He is her best friend and well equipped to do all sorts of things no adult would believe. She pushes off and swings up so high that her squeal of delight makes Murph bark in alarm. Mom, ever watchful, yells her usual, 'be careful'. She slows the swing just enough and leaps out and marks her landing. A little farther than last time. Jumping up she scrambles up the tree as high as she can.
The yard gets bigger and the old dog gets smaller the higher she climbs. This is where spring is best. Up where no one can see her. Freedom is seeing everyone and no one knowing where you are. Princess of my kingdom she thinks and she is lost in a world all her own making. Time slips away and she thinks about getting down from her tower, to walk amongst the peasants (or at least to find a servant with some supper).  Her fair prince Murph has fallen asleep at the base of the tower with his red ball close by in case of emergency fetching.
Looking down at him, she realizes she is much higher than she has ever been. Tiny bare feet in boots that rub like awkward high heels are not cooperating as she tries to climb down. Higher isn't always better she decides and yells out. 'Damsel in distress, damsel in distress'. Truly this is her favorite princess line. Murph shocked to life below barks wildly thinking there is an emergency. Mom calls back, 'Where are you this time?'
"I am in the tower watching spring come to my kingdom", I announce.
'Come down you silly girl',  Mom calls up.
"Can you come and get me, I think I am stuck...."