The first day of spring came and went this year without my noting it as I usually do. These are strange times. Tales of fear all around, of grief and loss that makes me weep. It feels as though the grip of a cold winter will not go away. I’ve been taking lots of walks, sometimes three a day. In the open air, it is easier to imagine a sense of normalcy. Under the blue dome of sky, birds sing, and the bony, bare trees show the promise of coming green. Winter will have to yield, bowing to spring.
Seeing the buds growing on the branches, hearing the birds sing, and the mountains begin to turn from straw color to green, gives me hope. There have been other times, in days we only hear about in the stories of the past, when the world seemed caught in a darkness that would not end, But the long night was forced to give way to the growing light of dawn. The sun rose and flooded the world with its light. The land healed and also the people who lived upon it. I feel the need for those stories, both of real times and of fantasy. Give me stories of hope. Of triumph. Then I can feel that this trying time will end and we will be able to move past it. Like winter gives way to spring.