The coming of Spring

When you spend all day outraged at the latest and newest outrage of the day, you can easily miss the beautiful things.

There is a beauty and excitement among all creatures great and small in waiting

Love, hope can be hidden and appear to be gone, but Spring will come with the sun.

Life persists despite things that can bury it, life persists and with sun and time it heals and grows.

Before the storm, there is a pause, a last minute scurrying, a checking of resources, then a settling into wait. Watch the birds they know this. The plants as well

Even while buried in a storm worth of snow, life, light, hope persist. In times of disaster and storm life knows to rest, to conserve energy to manage through. To use the resources wisely that have been carefully stored away in warmer days.

Like grief or trauma light and Spring can seem so far away while life is buried deeply under heavy, heavy snow.

Sublimation is the transition of a substance directly from the solid to the gas state, without passing through the liquid state. That is why the snow slowly just disappears. That is what will happen. If only grief and trauma, like snow, could disappear. But instead the injury goes from dark to bruised to discolored. Winter to Spring is a process of transformation. It’s a journey.

Life waits. Still buried, but still alive. This feels like the country right now with Covid. Still under the crushing weight, but knowing that soon we will be past it.

After snow and darkness life can feel broken and deformed but light and time lead to new growth and life

As the world turns and changes do we cuddle together for warmth for support? Is this our true nature – to live among others in communities of support? If indeed so, then what deep dysfunction keeps us from doing so?

There is no climatic battle, no blazing fight between seasons it is as simple as light bringing warmth more light with each rotation of the earth, and so with us with each rotation a day slips away. Live it well, live them all well. Love them well.

Warm now but bitter cold is moving in. As I take the picture one lone snowflake lands. Weather like life is sometimes suspended between choices and change.

Bulbs planted over a decade ago through multiple winters and seasons persist. How many have not? How many did not make it to this Spring, to this season? Life persists, but not for all. Imagine your garden with Spring flowers that come up every Spring for those you lost. Every spring for a few weeks or months they could blaze with color.

My Farmer friends already know we are in Mud season. How did we become so divorced from food and the land that we did not know that? What other things have we lost? What does the sometimes calamitous change of seasons nudge us to remember, to know, to learn? To forget?