Spring

Spring

If hope is to exist, there has to be Spring.

Spring shows us that even when all has died, we have another chance.

It is the season of Spring that makes me happy to be alive.

Spring is earth’s embrace. Even when we feel hopeless and depressed, in the Spring, the earth puts its giant arms around us and hugs tightly. It is like the long hug of a close friend, loved one, or family member. You never want to let go. We all wish Spring could last forever.

In the Spring, the dead come back to life. In a once dull and brown field, hues of purple, yellow and green cover the earth. Bees bounce from petal to petal. Their scent is the perfume of mother earth. A smell that changes as you walk from woods to fields.

It is the scent of attraction to the bees. Leading them to flowers, ripe for pollination, fruiting and rebirth.

To me, Spring is like the morning after night. Sometimes just before bed, when the shades are pulled and darkness has fallen it is easy to feel hopeless. I remember being told, “Don’t make a decision at night, always wait till the next day when you can see differently.” That has always been good advice. Because almost always, when the sun has risen and I hear the earth awakening, I find a way inside to deal with what was causing concern the night before.

Spring is the morning after the darkness of Winter.

In the Spring the birds sing like no other season. They sound their trumpets like the Queen is waltzing into the courtyard. You can hear the hope of having another chance. Of birth and new life after what seemed like an endless pause.

You will hear that they are simply claiming their territory for the nesting season ahead. Yet, I like to think it is the latter. I like to think that during the Spring, they are the trumpets in the Queen’s court.

In the Spring you don’t think of the end. It is always the beginning no matter how many Springs have happened before. For it is the Spring that makes me yearn for the earth. That wonderful mother which holds us so tightly when we arrive…or when we leave. A shower drops tears onto the earth, encouraging those hiding underground to come forth. To push out through the dirt and to the warming light.

It is during this season, more than the others combined, that I truly see how much we are loved.