Today, high winds whip through our neighborhood. We receive alerts of fallen limbs blocking a roadway and of school buses delayed on their journeys homeward.
In a single moment, the backyard flares with afternoon sun, storm clouds, snow, and wind so strong the thickest oaks sway. It’s like a collection of all the season’s weather in one view. And it’s as if the weather cannot decide who she is.
Some days come like this–all at once and rowdy and unusual–because that’s the nature of spring. Some days, we forget ourselves; we try on different ways of living and remember other versions of ourselves. It’s like our orderly life now erupts because we’re at a crossroads of seasons: winter’s gone, but spring isn’t quite here. It’s a moment of unpredictability, chaos, and uncertainty.
I remember when my neighbor told me to take my cues from nature in order to establish spiritual rhythms. She reminded me of the coming back inside, the hibernation of winter. I think of summer’s rich growth and autumn’s glorious harvest. And today? It’s spring’s unpredictable shooting up in so many places, from so many directions, of possibility.
It feels like a wind storm. And that’s spring.