I felt the first flash of spring one day in mid January. Mid January! Not spring at all. Still, it was unmistakable. A certain subtle shift in the light. A scent blowing in on the sea breeze. A singular robin on a branch hurtling out his territorial and mating song.
And all I could think was, ‘I’m not ready!’.
Not ready for the light. Not ready for the up and out energy of spring. It was too soon. Like someone whipping away your nice warm duvet first thing in the morning before you’ve barely woken. I wanted to stay curled in the safe cocoon of winter.
Luckily, nature offers up its winter-spring dance in response to my protests. First comes a little taste of spring. A day, two, maybe three like this before we are thrown back into the depths of winter with snow flurries and frozen ground. Back and forth it goes like this, the ratio tilting more in spring’s favour at a gradual pace.
Four to six weeks later and I’m no longer clinging to winter. Instead, I’m practically on my knees begging spring to take the reigns. There is such a kindness in spring’s arrival. She doesn’t cruelly whip off the duvet covers leaving you shocked and unprepared. She gently peels it back little by little until we’re ready to leap from our beds and embrace the new season of light.
Hello, light! I’m so glad you’re here.
Love and courage,