I know many people rely on the notorious ground hog to announce the coming of Spring but, I prefer the familiar rhythm of livingness I share with this space. I stopped wearing a watch years ago and rarely use a calendar preferring to sync with the moments as they emerge. As the days grow longer and warmer, the red legged frogs begin to crawl out from the mud in the flood plain below and sing out, "it's spring, it's spring"! Their song stirs me, it's depth and resonance echoing back to childhood memories of sitting on the roof outside my bedroom window on a starry night listening to the chorus of happy frogs welcoming Spring. They are early this year…
Wild Borage
In the wood, wild borage is beginning to poke it’s head through the blanket of moss and leaves, the first to check for light and warmth before sending the signal to the other spring plants to join in. And, like an artist with his canvas and palette of colors, Spring will soon paint the landscape with vibrant hues of blue, yellow and pink...the colors of new life.
The goats are shedding their Winter fur and their rounded bellies hold the promise of new kids bouncing in the pasture. And, the hens are foraging new greens and plump worms, exchanging the energy of Spring into nourishing, golden yolked treasures.
The journey through the seasons happens without a clock or a calendar, it happens even if we don’t pay attention… but where would the joy be in that?
So, I celebrate living in the rhythm, connected to all that came before. Purity that holds the blueprint of life, layers of memory, creating this space I call home. I breathe in the cool moist air, and remember who I am, a sentient BEing connected to the web of life… grounded in the rhythm.