There is something about this time of the year that works for me; I think it is the hope that spring represents, the restoration and ultimately the reminder that change is and has always been just around the corner.
The kids and I have been taking long walks in the forest almost every day, and we watch with amazement all the changes happening around us; grounds and trees that were once dry, dead, and trampled upon by worn-out winter boots are suddenly bursting with life.
Everything is taking its place again.
The trees are slowly leafing out with delicate young budding leaves; the first wildflowers are blooming and unfolding day by day; the bees have taken notice and are eager to give them hugs and kisses—it looks like it is going to be a bee-utiful Spring season!
The snails are back on their risky escapades, crawling everywhere at the risk of being crushed (they need a rescue club, somebody); the turtle brothers are always out sunbathing these days; and the frogs can be heard croaking up a storm, staking their claim to the whole lake as if there was ever any competition.
Once again, the lovely ducks have graced us with their presence, paddling lazily on the pond, never in a hurry; it must feel good to be on a permanent vacation.
The s-s-snakes are out too—scaring the heck out of everyone. And Mr. Fox is back in business preying on smaller animals. I saw him the other day. The myth has it that it's good luck to see one—pardon the digression, but Lord knows I need some extra luck! Then, there are the birds, the beautiful birds (we saw a red cardinal yesterday), chirping and singing their happy songs, reminding us that spring is indeed the most wonderful time of year—the time of hope, healing, and promises.
As I contemplate these things, I often wonder where all these lives that are suddenly everywhere went all winter long. Who would have thought that underneath the dirt and withered leaves and dry tree barks lie the great beauties we see now?
Perhaps these beautiful things never left at all but just adapted to the circumstances around them, accepting the conditions, knowing that things would inevitably change, that the inactivity of winter would only be temporary.
I can't help but wonder if hidden in the spring blossom is the secret to overcoming life's worries—the knowledge that as the seasons change, so must every circumstance and situation, and we are asked to adapt to whichever season we find ourselves in, knowing that everything is impermanent—and that, if and when we find ourselves in life's winter season, somewhere in the future not too far away, spring will bloom again for us—with all its vibrancy and aliveness—and that all is and will be well and that everything will eventually find its place again.
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