Sprung

It’s finally starting to look and feel like spring in my neck of the woods. Not that that keeps sleet and freezing rain out of the weather forecast. Still, the trend is toward less cold, more sunshine, and new growth everywhere. I’ve gone from hibernation to walking more than six miles a day, from contemplation to writing again.

Every year I’m awed by this miracle of regeneration and growth after the seeming death of winter. Every year I feel the spring in my step as well as in the air. It’s an exciting time of year. To me, it feels more like the beginning of the year than January 1st.

It’s certainly the new year in my garden. The crocuses have started blooming and the tulips and daffodils aren’t far behind. I’m still new to gardening. I had no idea what an act of faith it is to plant bulbs in the fall. Over the winter, as the snow piled up where the crocuses and tulips and daffodils are planted, I worried. Should I have protected them more? Could I have protected them more? Would they survive?

It turns out that blooming crocuses aren’t helped in the least by my worrying on their behalf. They respond to their own rhythms. I did my part by planting them and walking away. I wonder where else in my life I could benefit from stepping back and letting nature take its course, where else I’m worrying needlessly about processes completely outside of my control. Or is that the very nature of worry?

I’ll be contemplating that on my next walk, now that I’m finally breaking free of winter. What about you? How do you know that spring has arrived, in your garden and in your heart? And how do you let go of worry?

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