Ah, spring!

The flowers sprinkled around this post prove spring has sprung. I hope they improve your mood. They improved mine, which has been slapped around a bit after the pandemics caused by COVID-19 and the murder of George Floyd. That first pandemic is dwindling here in the NYC area, which is no longer the world’s epicenter—Brazil is. That second pandemic is still going on as I write this.

Spring always makes us feel good. The changes in the sun’s angle causing the dark days of winter to morph into bright spring days are exhilarating. Leaves come back on the trees; flowers start popping. (There are three kinds in the pics. Can you name them?) There’s a pleasant buzz to life as Gaia takes her perennial bow.

From ancient times forward, human beings have celebrated the coming of spring. What’s more, the plants and animals seem to join in that celebration…or even lead it. Hazel, the groundhog who lives under our shed every spring, uses our yard to feed, preparing for the little groundhogs who are on their way. (I’m sorry I don’t have a pic of Hazel. She’s a shy critter.)

As a kid, I often wondered why the ancients didn’t celebrate New Year in spring…and I grew up in California where winters aren’t that bad. I learned why that wouldn’t work for both the northern and southern hemispheres even before I started in school, but it was still a nice thought because spring seems to make the world seem better.

These are good thoughts to have in these troubled times. Spring is full of hope. We called it an Arab spring because there was hope for democracy in the Middle East; we now call what’s happening there the Arab winter. Darkness and despair are associated with winter; lightness and hope with spring.

Of course, spring is really the opposite of fall, summer of winter. Those oppositions don’t detract from my belief that spring is the real beginning of the year. It just occurs at different times in the northern and southern hemispheres, but it’s still a beginning. Life seems to rev up again each spring for all of us.

I’m sorry that victims of COVID and Mr. Floyd can’t see another spring. Or maybe they can…somewhere it’s eternal spring?

This entry was posted on Monday, June 8th, 2020 at 3:16 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.