Let me begin by saying I have nothing against spring. I love the way the air smells fresh in the morning and the sense of renewal that comes with new blooms and brighter days. What I don’t like about spring is that my mind jumps to, “Oh no. Summer is next.” I don’t like the extra long days of summer and the sweltering heat. (I’m an autumn girl first, then spring, then winter.)
But this year I’m trying to take a different approach. I’m trying to live in the moment and enjoy the sights and smells around me. And in my quest to find the joy of the season, I’ve even decided to try my hand at gardening. As a person so caught up in death and destruction, I think it will be good for me to focus on life and recovery. So I’ve bought wildflower seeds and a shrub; I planted dianthus flowers near my doorway and a garden flag with a Goddess-like woman holding a frog. I even bought a cheerful gingham pinwheel. My butterfly windchimes are hung and the suet is hanging in the tree while the birds use their new butterfly birdbath. I want to create a sanctuary, a safe place, in my backyard. A place where I can go to reconnect with the universe and the girl lost inside me, buried under technology and despair. I want to go barefoot in the dirt as I till it to prepare for wildflowers and an even wilder hope.
I want to feel alive again.
Is that possible? I don’t know. But if ever there was a chance, I think this spring is it, because for the first time in a long time I’m allowing myself to give a damn.
It’s a start.