Behold!

Spring

“Through the weeks of deep snow

we walked above the ground

on fallen sky, as though we did

not come of root and leaf, as though

we had only air and weather

for our difficult home.

But now

as March warms, and the rivulets

run like birdsong on the slopes,

and branches of light sing in the hills

slowly we return to earth.”

Wendell Berry

While we were busy wringing our hands over the coronavirus, Spring happened. Several beautiful days of bright sun brought out squinting people suffering through home-bound isolation, and the blossoms as well. I’ve seen more people outside walking in my neighborhood in the past two days than in the last six months. My friend Sharon said she and Harry walked in their neighborhood yesterday and ran into everyone they know. We are social distancing, of course, but who can resist the clarion call of Spring.

 Yesterday, the air tinted green with oak pollen and today it’s thick with rain. Two days ago, the temperature rose into the 80’s and today it won’t leave the 60’s. The redbuds and forsythia have bloomed and are on the wane, and the dogwoods are squeezing open their white Easter flowers. Such is March in the deep south.

One of the wonderful things happening right now is that the earth is doing her best to show us hope. She rises again, just as she always has. The cycles turn as they always have. And this terrible virus has provided opportunity for people who would normally be in office towers and math classes, in welding shops and scrap yards, a chance to witness the awakening. Birds build their nests and sing their hearts out. And even though we are in the middle of this terrifying pandemic, we feel the rise of sap in our own veins. I’ll bet there will be a lot of Christmas babies this year!

Emily Dickenson expressed it this way:

“A Light exists in Spring

Not present in the Year

At any other period—

When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad

On Solitary Fields

That Science cannot overtake

But Human Nature feels…”

The Earth holds us in her arms. We are as much her creation, her offspring as the flowers of the fields and the singing birds. She has not abandoned us and will not. If you feel hopeless, look to her. In the words of Sitting Bull, “It is through this mysterious power that we too have our being…” He knew. And now, so do you.

                                        In the Spirit,

                                        Jane