The thing about spring

The thing about spring is it keeps you on your toes. It shakes you awake each morning with a bracing chill unlike the languid heat of summer, or the cosy hearth-warmth of winter. The sky is promising sun and blue and the air is quickening and moving and ready and the leaves are growing and the fern fronds are pushing and uncurling and the birds are all a twitter and the air is bracing. Through the day you can walk through warm pools of indulgence chased by cool winds of purpose. The clouds play the same game, chasing patterns of change across the sky. It is cold, it is hot, it is sharply, freshly wet, it is suddenly dry, it is teasing and moving and exploring and growing and full of the energy of life. Here comes a shower when I started in sunshine, and who can predict the changes that will cavort today?

There’s always more to do in spring, tending newly-grown gardens and removing dead wood and leaves and daffodil heads, spring cleaning houses and thoughts and ways of being and erupting onto the new stage that spring brings. Change is unharnessing the old and trying on the new, and finding as we do so that we are young again. Although the sun and clouds play chase and you can never tell which one you will find in the sky, the sun is winning as the days grow in warmth and light and abundance. And we are dancing, we are shedding winter coats of heart and treading greyness of thought into an early grave. We are whipped by the wind like the leaves on the birch tree until we find ourselves bare and ready to move or linger, dancing with the pulse of this time.