ABSTRACT
Spring stirs first in the air and then in the soil. The strong winds that have come dustladen out of the west all winter suddenly cease, and soft white clouds hang motionless in the sky, basking in the sun. The moist soil near the irrigation ditches drinks in the warm sunlight and transmits its renewed energy to the roots of the alder trees at the edge of the paddy fields. In almost no time their buds are open and fluttering on their branches. Then an occasional frog, still in its winter hiding place, starts croaking once again. The sunlight grows steadily warmer, and hungrily the soil absorbs the heat. Soon reeds, wild grains, and grasses rise up along the ditches to face the sun. As if intoxicated by the softness of the air the blossoms on the alder trees begin to dance, spewing forth fine sprays of pollen. And the frogs, who are out of hibernation at last, cling to the soft grass and gaze upward in amazement. Suddenly they open their throats and proclaim to the sky their return to life, their boisterous cries echoing far and wide.
