Pretty pinks and purples, brilliant whites and golden yellows have burst into bloom over the grasses, trees, and bushes within a matter of days; sometimes it even seems to happen overnight. The faded deep greens and browns of our winter months sport the spiked bright green of fresh leaves and blades. The artist’s eye falls upon this inter-seasonal mix with appreciation, finding that which bears both the mark of what has endured and that which is just beginning.
Last week was a really good week for me as a parent. I have been sowing seeds and tenderly nurturing what has sprung up, pushing its way to the surface. I thrilled as I watched my efforts bring forth fresh life and goodness. These are the moments that oxygenate my blood and passion for that which I pour my heart and soul and life into on a daily basis.
But when sudden winds blew with unexpected bluster and intensity, my brow knit at the intrusion and I hunkered down in bodily protest. No, this is not what I ordered. Warm balmy days and soothing sprinkles of rain falling gently, all perfection and consideration for the new shoots I have planned, those are my desires. And just like that, a cumulus of despondency settled upon my soul, darkening my eye and threatening to steal my joy at the process underway.
How is it that I still can get so carried away as to be broad-sided by the challenge sure to arrive on the next wild wind? Childish enthusiasm, I suppose. I can smile now, a few days later; I have stepped back to look with a more appreciative perspective, attentive to the Master Gardener.
I am reminded that this is a season of changeability. What I see outside now can shift and vary within the hour. Sun chases clouds, or billows of blue and grey pull like blankets over the day and block its brightness. Back and forth, up and down, this way and that. I attend to my seedlings: sun exposure, water, soil, and covering mulch for weed protection. Frosts might very well threaten; it is my duty to think and prepare them for surviving what would truly harm them. I must also trust that they themselves can and must learn to withstand some of the difficulties and challenges that come their way.
Delight applauds the blush of spring, all that is new, fresh, and bright. But I am finding that I am looking at the hardy grasses beneath, the bare and naked branches bringing forth life once again – the faithful backdrop to the splashes and bursts of color. And the heart of my eyes smiles in appreciation of that which has endured, survived, and continues on. Exuberant energies notwithstanding, I am not a child. I am a mother, and I will keep on learning even as I train up, so long as I am given the gift of seasons upon this earth.