It seems like only yesterday there was snow
And the ground so soggy
You were forced to pick your way.
But today the trees
Which long ago
Had shrugged off the beauty of the early winter snows
To stand bare and brown against the sky
Begin to show their true colors.
The willows, yellow.
The white birch, brown
The maple, red and burnt yellow.
Spring.
On This Morning’s Walk
It has been a week of storms.
First came the rain and the wind.
Followed by a heavy, wet snow.
Trees down.
Roads closed.
Thousands without power for days.
I took my dog for a walk this morning.
Giving her a chance to chase the smells
And to run through the snow.
As we walked
The morning quiet was interrupted
By cardinals
Calling back and forth to each other across the field.
Listen.
Spring
Today is the first day of spring.
The warmth of the spring sun slowly melts the snow left by last week’s storm. Yet, in the corner where the snow has already melted the first flowers of spring push their way above the ground.
My prayer for today is this.
May I lift my life towards that spring sun and allow it to melt the frozen parts within me.
And, in some sheltered corner of who I am
May that which has been hidden and yet hoped for
And for too long buried
Push its way towards the surface of my life.
Deep Breath. New Life.
Sometime each morning I find myself standing at our kitchen counter looking out the window onto our back yard. Often as I finish the last of my coffee before I walk the dog and go to work. For months the view out my window has either been the dirty white of old snow or the shriveled brown of dead grass. And, for the longest time this year, patches of dirty snow lingered in the shaded corners of our yard.
Sunday morning was different.
For the first time in months, just a hint of green was visible.
The grass, it seems had just been waiting;
Instantly ready;
For the sun and the breeze to change for cold to warm.
The forsythia will soon follow.
Then the trees and then the lilacs.
For the last several weeks of the winter my spirit mirrored the view outside my window.
Cold.
Brown.
Shriveled.
Empty.
I long to be like the grass.
Attentive to the change in the breeze.
Ready to come back to life.
Hope
This morning it was 11 degrees when I walked out the door.
Winter coat.
Gloves.
Hat.
My breath hanging in the air.
Cold breeze against my cheeks.
Snow still covering the ground.
But also this…
Breaking the silence of the morning
Unseen cardinals calling to each other.
The first sign of spring.
To Everything There Is A Season
Beginning tomorrow and continuing into Monday, another snow storm is predicted for where I live. 6-8 more inches on top of the snow that we already have had much of which is still on the ground.
I generally don’t mind the snow.
Or, the cold.
I love the beauty of the snow on the trees.
And the quiet.
But, I am very ready for spring.
Not just to melt the snow, but to call a part of me back to life.
My interior life is beginning to match the weather outside.
Bundled up in an effort to stay warm.
Closed in and chilly.
I need the warmth to peel away the layers and to pull life back towards the surface. I need to be outdoors. And, to walk and to run and to play.
I need to see green rather than just grey.
“To everything there is a season…” the ancient preacher wrote.
I am ready for spring.