When Spring Comes
The other morning, I found myself reflecting on the lyrics from the song The Rose. The line that really stood out to me was “Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snow, lies the seed that with the sun’s love, in the Spring becomes the Rose.”
While part of me balks at the seed being a rose, I love the message of what lies beneath. The ground can appear barren, even dormant. There appears to be nothing there, and then, under the right conditions the beauty rises.
Of course, a rose is a bush. It stays above the earth in all seasons. Snow can land on it, and winter can throw all types of weather at it. Then, in Spring, the bare branches begin to reveal the softest, freshest, green leaves. From the toughest, knottiest branches come the most beautiful flowers and fragrance.
This morning, I was delighting in the pinks, mauves and blues of the early morning sky, when once again I was captivated by the bird song of a thrush. However, this time, the song was not a serenade; it was frenzied. As he sang, he was also moving his wings as if trying to dry them in the sun. As the chirruping continued, his wings became more powerful making large circular movements.
This was not his usual sweet song. This is early Spring, and there is much more urgency required for this song. This is his calling for a mate. This is letting other males know how strong his song is, how powerful are his wings and this is his territory.
Seasons can not only differ visually, but they also cause a shift in activity, a change in the way we do things. I am reminded of the words from Ecclesiastes: “There is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.”
I sense this seasonal shift in myself. Over winter, I have so enjoyed the restful times of reading and knitting and enjoying the fire from early morning to night. Not that there weren’t still jobs to be done and deadlines to meet, but they were few and far between. It was a time of rest. An enjoyable creative, indoor time.
Now there is a shift, an enjoyable fervour of things to do and places to be. Clearing out and rethinking spaces while decluttering again.
However, as well as the physical energy and activity, there is a deeper stirring within. A deeper growing and rising of dormant ideas. Deeper thoughts that have been resting beneath the snow that have broken through into the sun and are beginning to reveal their potential with colourful splendor.
I love that life is seasonal. I love that we get to experience change, and with change comes hope and promise for longer days, warmer weather and time outdoors.
There certainly is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.
And perhaps, sometimes, what appears to be dormant is simply waiting for the right season to come. When Spring comes, what has been growing quietly beneath the surface begins to emerge.
Perhaps there are new things springing up all around us.
Do we perceive them?
