It is Sunday morning; the sky is overcast. As I gaze out over the pasture, there is a softness that is created by moisture so thick in the air that it appears as mist. It is not yet raining, but the forecasters say it is on its way.
On my walk out to the barn, I notice that it is not cold at all. Although it is barely 50 degrees, there is not a breath of wind. Everything is damp due to the high humidity. From the ground rises a mixture of earthy smells.
At first glance, the earth looks lifeless. The leafless trees and the brown grass in the field makes nature’s energy feel lethargic; the lack of wind and the calming earthy fragrance that surrounds me makes me want to close my eyes and not move.
I cannot tarry in one place for long because the horses are milling around telling me that they want their breakfast. And happy for human contact, the cats and dogs are coming to greet me. Even our white peahen is milling around.
As I approach the barn door to open it, another familiar early spring smell hits my nostrils—ode de skunk. February is classic skunk season. Skunks are awakening in their winter dens and venturing forth in search of food and a mate. One just needs to observe the number of dead skunks on the roads to know this is true.
I am always careful walking into the barn in case one is lingering about. I have startled more than one skunk in the barn which was trying to find the cat food it could smell. This time of morning though, most skunks have bedded down for the day, since they are nocturnal by nature. Nevertheless, I proceeded with caution until I was sure that only the skunk’s smell was remaining.
When the horses, cats, and peahen were fed, I walked down the hill to open the pasture gate. That’s when I noticed small but bright green patches of grass dotting the paddock. The horses had apparently already found them because they were very short from being grazed on.
A flock of starlings was nearby, likely feasting on bugs that the warm, wet weather was calling up out of the ground.
Suddenly, I started to feeling an awakening within myself. After feeling oppressed all winter from an intolerance to the cold and a lack of desire to be outside, a spark of anticipation appeared.
Slowly and quietly, the transition from winter to spring has been underway without much notice from me. My husband and I have been talking about getting the garden ready, and I even bought some seeds but we have had very little ambition to do anything else.
Last weekend, I did pull some weeds in the flowerbeds just so I could plant some spring bulbs. The weeds were leftover from last year after I lost the battle of keeping them pulled. Unfortunately, without much rain this winter, the ground is hard and weed pulling is nearly impossible.
This next week we have a good potential for getting enough rain to soften the ground. I put down some fertilizer in the flowerbeds this morning in preparation for it. If we don’t get the rain we need, I will have to start watering. There will probably be broken pipes to fix first, though.
It looks as if the peach and plum trees are starting to bud; I hope it is not too early. Last summer, we had a wonderful crop of peaches—it was our first. The plum tree has not yet produced fruit even though it is old enough. Somehow, it always seems to bloom too early and the buds have not survived the last frost. The apple trees appear to not have awakened from their winter rest.
What is stirring in me today is a need to reconnect with nature and the land that I care for. They nurture me in a way that is truly restorative. While caring for the land is hard work, it is a labor of love and I perform it without dread or reservation; as much as I give, it gives back to me.
I am feeling the same stirring to care for all aspects of my life, personal and business related. I am gearing up for some real growth this year. Gratitude and joy are my main focus to make all of my endeavors more of a labor of love.
Life is too short not to invest in it with anticipation rather than out of a feeling of mindless obligation or rote disconnectedness.
Is spring stirring in you? I hope this year you find a way to infuse your life with the promise of new beginnings and growth, and a desire to go after things that will benefit you and your family. May you come to appreciate that true living is giving, and labors of love are never in vain.
Song of Songs 8:7 Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it. If a man tried to buy love with all his wealth, his offer would be utterly scorned.
