My favorite season will always be autumn, but spring is a close second. Whereas fall is a season of contentment and gratitude and gathering in, spring is a time of rising heat, inspiration, and boundless growth. Just watch the elderberry shoots thrusting boldly from their runners, dandelions and all the precious bulb flowers, flowers exploding from apple trees in what seems a matter of minutes, and tiny budding leaves so green they’re almost gold—as Robert Frost so aptly put it, “Nature’s first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold…” That poem echoes through my mind this time of year.
As I write this, yesterday was the first day of the yellow haze, filming the windows, the porch, the cars, standing out in stark relief on these man-made materials. Soon it will be literally piling up in drifts along the curb, puddling against the bottom of trees and along the edges of the walk. This is Virginia, after all, and Mother Nature is noted for her… ahem… enthusiasm in the Old Dominion. Especially in the spring.
I’m always a morning person, but right around the spring equinox things start getting a little crazy for me. Despite a full-time work schedule and a wonderfully energetic little man, both vying to wear me out, I find that once Oscar goes to bed, I’m still raring to go. My mind is racing, every thought charged with potential, and my fingers itch to do something already. The word of the season is manifestation.
I recently began taking a distance-learning course, Herbal Medicine for Women with Aviva Romm, which has got me immensely excited. I’m also (obviously) spending a good amount of time writing. Oscar is making leaps and bounds, getting more and more adventurous in his toddling adventures, learning new words and signing every day. His play is getting more specific and focused (and a bit obsessive, truth be told). He’s apparently also caught the spring fever.
Despite my desire to stay up till all hours pursuing my various interests, I do make myself go to bed, reluctantly, at a more reasonable hour, knowing my alarm will go off at the same time each morning, regardless of how much sleep I’ve gotten. It takes a long time for my brain to quiet enough to rest, and I frequently have to jot down notes about ideas I want to pursue, things I want to get done, so that my mind can release them—else I’d never get to sleep. The dreams that follow are frenetic and vivid and full of movement. More often than not, I wake before my alarm, bleary-eyed and ready to jump-start the day. In the early morning chill, my body is up and moving before my mind can shake off the lingering remnants of dreaming, and so I carry shreds of dream with me into the waking day.
I try to be mindful of my tendency to run-run-run each spring, while at the same time embracing the wealth of inspiration, motivation, and defiant, upward-thrusting energy. Each season is a gift to be embraced and acknowledged and incorporated into our daily lives. The seasons are reflected in us—we are part and parcel. So I try to nourish myself, to rest, to meditate… and to allow myself to ride that vernal wave, let it carry me up and forward at increasing speed into the summer, hoping the momentum will carry me a little farther even than what I’ve yet imagined.
Big things, so much growth on the horizon—spinning ever onward.