#ProjectZen #Day16 #GratitudeProject
Here we are in mid-February in the northern hemisphere, Winter blowing her final fury in many parts of the country. This year, where I live, it’s been very mild with little snow at all. It’s been more wet and messy here with lots of rain, but you won’t hear me complaining about the lack of snow. Oh, I like snow, and it does have it’s own stark beauty. I have always thought newly fallen snow, unmarked by footprints, as beautiful.
But, invariably as it always happens for me around this time of year, my mind looks forward to the coming of Spring. I think a lot of this has to do with growing up on a farm in Michigan, where everything was marked by clearly defined seasons, and Spring hinted at the promise of late-summer bounty.
My mother had blooms for all seasons in her garden around the house, and spread out into the huge yard around our farmhouse. As a small child I would gaze in wonder at flowers poking through snow, like snow drops. She had purple flowers that grew low to the ground that would poke out of the snow sometimes, I do not remember what those are called, they remind me of pansies? But oh, I remember the color, the cheeriness, and remember thinking how brave and beautiful those little purple flowers were. They offered bright and happy contrast with their purple hues against the white snow. “Here I am!” they seemed to proclaim. Lovely respite from a long Michigan winter.
I have flowers too, around my little house in town. Seasons start about a month earlier here in Illinois, compared to where I grew up in Michigan, but I soon became accustomed to growing times where I live. I have no where near the sheer number of flowers, nor do I have the wide sampling of flowers, that my mom did. I have managed to plant just enough to give me the same joy, however, and each year I am given the privilege of observing renewal.
I wait with growing impatience for the appearance of my own snow drops, tulips, daffodils, and bleeding hearts. I long for the bright and bold reds and yellows. I wait for the pastel pinks and the elegant whites. I wish for the lush and varied greens. I look for the first robin to hop across my yard searching for her breakfast worms and I want to hear male cardinals singing their trilling mating songs. I want to see baby rabbits hiding in my hostas in the backyard. The beeps and chirps of tiny house wrens that nest in the oddest places around our house. The first hummingbird to visit our feeder. These things bring me so much joy. Life renewed, a time of hope and beauty, a new chance. We all can use another chance….to live, to shine, to grow. Fragile flowers somehow manage to do this year after year, and give us hope that we can too.
Every year at my little house, in my tiny yard, this big thing called life…begins anew each Spring with a single bloom.
Today I am grateful for Spring flowers.
The photos below are from my own garden. May they bring you the same joy they bring me.