No matter how many seasons we are given to watch them come and fade into the next one, there is something about the bloom and blossom of spring that always feels like a fresh, new experience.
As I look out my western windows this morning, I love seeing the cherry trees in full bloom. The sunshine is peeking over the rooftop of our home, spotlighting the blossoming grove of old trees. A gentle morning breeze moves the blossoms and daffodils around. The songbirds are belting out their cheery tunes, letting us know they have returned to celebrate the grandeur of the season.
Along with the sunny cheer of longer days comes the work of expunging weeds and dealing with the newly-greened grass growing. The dead and brown litter of winter is being pushed aside, literally, by new growth. It is a bold analogy of the cycle of life.
This month, I have celebrated a birthday and a momentous wedding anniversary. Doug and I were married on Palm Sunday, 40 years ago. For all the great plans we made to celebrate the big date, we are reminded we humans have so little control, as we both came down with our first-ever bout of covid. We spent the week of our anniversary in solitude, together, sharing a large box of Kleenex, hot tea and old movies.
We will celebrate another time. If we learn nothing else as we traverse this journey, it is to be filled with gratitude for whimsy, the give-and-take of acceptance of whatever will be.
No matter how many days, months and years we are given, I find myself more grateful than ever for the people I get to spend it with, one step at a time.
Spring and all its glory shows up for us and serves as a reminder to me: take stock of the bounty, count your many blessings, and set aside the time to revel in each one.
