Spring

I love spring. I love the smell of the rain and the trees just beginning to bud. I love the anticipation of seeing the first sprouts coming up from the earth and the mystery of what those sprouts could be (especially because I often forget what I planted the year before).

Every day I go out and tour my own yard as if I'm seeing it for the first time and in a way, I am. Each day brings new wonder, new surprises. Spring is still hopeful. It isn't quite late enough to discover that those lilies I planted didn't make it or that the blueberry bush didn't produce. There is still so much potential.

I have planted shrubs before and waited anxiously to see them budding in the spring only to discover them dead. A few days ago when I walked around my yard, most of the new shrubs I planted appeared to be dead. Since they're new and I can't remember exactly what they are or when they're supposed to bloom, I decided break off a tiny piece of the branch to see the inside. I was delighted to see green. I have decided to take that to mean the other ones that appear dead are really just waiting, protecting themselves until it's warm enough to emerge. That's the wonder and beauty of spring.

Every year we gather with friends for a spring celebration. There are nature crafts for the kids, potluck food and drink for the adults and a planting ceremony. We all write down on slips of paper what we want to sow...wishes, goals, ideas. We take turns digging with a shovel and bury our hopes with a plant or seeds. We also have a bonfire and let go of anything we need to and take a turn sharing where we're at and what spring means to us. It's a beautiful tradition, one that I look forward to. For many of us, it is the hope, the light, that means so much.

For the past two years, I have gone into my dance studio above the garage in the spring to find a bird trapped there. They had somehow found their way in but couldn't find their way out. The first was a male cardinal, the second year a mama robin. In both cases, I was amazed to find that the bird allowed me to cup my hands around it and carry it to the open window to let it out. I can't explain how honored I felt by that. Perhaps they knew I could help or perhaps they were just too scared to struggle or fly away, I don't know. And though I was helping the bird, it felt like I was the one being given a gift.

The gift is being allowed to touch something that usually seems so separate. As a human it is a privilege for me to connect with another life that I usually just admire from afar, that is so light and free. I am touched by being part of returning that thing of beauty to its freedom. In this way, I am part of the hope that spring brings.