Yearly Spring Watch

   Every year I look forward to seeing the trees bud out, the first blossoms prepare to bloom, and the smell of the season change to reflect the earth’s soil melting the ice coat it has had all winter. Somehow each year I miss the moment when the season changes. Not the calendar date that marks when spring officially begins, but the actual moment when the leaves start sprouting and budded flowers start blooming. I think it must happen overnight in the blink of an eye. One moment, everything is still and cautious again late snowfalls and frosts. And then the next moment, caution is thrown aside and the leaves come out. Soon, the trees contain a haze of fresh green and the ground a landscape of littered leaf protectors.

   It seems that normally when the first day occurs that I am at work. The weather is perfect, a light breeze and the temperatures are not too high, and I’m stuck inside. So, this Sunday was such a wonderful anomaly. Sitting in a dark green plastic chair, with my feet propped up on a bright yellow children’s plastic slide I found myself sinking lower and lower as my mid section relaxed into the beautiful day. A book in hand, my Diet Pepsi sitting next to the chair’s legs, and the dogs wandering about the yard finding sticks to eat on – what a lovely way to kick off spring.

Seasons and Roadmaps

   Each changing season seems to lead me to want to travel someplace different. The blustery weather that we awoke to yesterday here in our corner of the state had me dreaming of getting in the car and heading off down the road, but to where?

   The fall winds blow, the leaves start making their showy appearance and I start dreaming of South Dakota. The last warmth to find the plains before the beginning of the wintry snow that will sweep through the grasses. I so would love to find myself winding the way through the pine trees as the snow starts, and then watching the buffalo walk through the whiteness, creating a path with their amazingly deft mass.
   Or the cool wetness of a spring day, whisking me off to Alaska in July; the feel of the water into the air, the vapor of the sea moist and salty to the touch. Blooms are fragrant and the leaves are deep shades of green.
  As I prepare to travel now, I think of other places I have been fortunate enough to see. There is such a beautiful world out there, so many roads to travel. I’m excited to be off and exploring.

Grass in the Sidewalk

I was walking up the hill to the car and it struck me that the grasses growing in the cracks of the sidewalk had withered to a very dead shade of plant burned brown. Just a few weeks ago, these plants were bright green and growing quite well. Yes, I know that sidewalks shouldn’t have grasses growing up in them without breaking the concrete eventually. I just remember noticing them because they were such a bright green.

The thing that really struck me as I continued up the hill was that I can empathize with those plants. Though this is not where I am currently at, I realize that just like those plants in the sidewalk, too much heat and not enough water makes me wilt. I need inspiration, time, quiet, noise, music, friendship, laughter, and love. I recognize that just like eating properly requires decisions and effort, so does growth. You can’t just toss out a long term goal of growth or change without planning some steps and how you will continue to re-invigorate your purpose along the way. Otherwise, you wind up just like the grass in the sidewalk, leaves dropped to the pavement, brown, and dry.