Spring and Seclusion

I’ve always viewed spring as a forward, upward movement. Plants bursting from the earth. Birds in flight. Trees growing up and out, wider by their leaves. Spring forward, the old saying. Light lingering in the sky. Wind, strong in strength and direction. The opposite of hibernation.

Funny then, the effect it has on me in the first few weeks. The sun’s angle in the sky has changed, so the brightness and temperature of sunbeams are a tempting offer, enticing me outside and into a more outgoing and extroverted self. But even the sun and all it brings – the daffodils, crocuses and snowdrops, the woodpeckers and the finches, the deeply earthy scent of a new season of plenty – is not enough to move me from my window. I feel safe and relieved here, next to the outdoors but not in it, watching and wanting but not ready to participate, even though I’ve been anxious for this moment for months and months, since January’s silver sharpness and bitter cold.

I feel like a bride, sitting at this wondow, savoring the moment. I want seclusion for a few moments more, a little more quiet before I join the party, sweet time alone with my solitary soul, time to see the wonder of renewal, to be grateful and nourished, to watch the joyous flow of the spring-fed river before I jump in.


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