Magnolias announced Spring a hare’s breath before Japanese and other flowering Cherries in the Pacific NW. Magnolias, holding tight to their magic in fuzzy bud scale-tipped twigs waited until the perfect moment. It was an overnight awakening after a spat of short-sleeved weather that splayed the white-bright petals out like a child’s rendition of a tissue-paper star. A sweet aroma enticed me to breathe deep. Cherries, not to be outdone, have erupted like small firework displays on their branches. Pompoms clustered like small fists ready to punch wonder into my Winter addled brain.
Lessons from the Pandemic: Stories Grief Weaves
Spring has begun in earnest in the Pacific Northwest. Daffodils are in yellow and orange abundance. Plum and cherry trees blushing to life. And Daphne’s aroma intoxicating for blocks on end. Blue sky, dry days are joy, sun warming Earth and skin. Rain is gentle, coming and going as tide. We need each drop to recover from a lingering drought. That the rain falling off-and-on this week without a storm’s full-on bluster is gift. No flooding.
Spring’s energy has been rising for weeks and after two years of all the upheaval Covid has wrought, there is a giddiness in the air of hope that the worse is behind us, even as more chapters are being written. At least that is what the birds are singing. Or…it is mating season?
Lessons from the Pandemic: Scattered Hope
Ah spring. I have emerged from winter as scattered as a bag of wildflower seeds torn open on a blustery day! My thoughts landing here and there. Sprouting with curiosity and wonder. It is a delightful energy to be in the midst of…and tiring, too. It is not my norm to be “airy” and at first it was unsettling, but I have opted to allow myself to play in the energy, much like the spring lambs I encountered and was enamored with on my Sojourn with Grief two years ago.
