March 10 | From Jeanne Treadway

 

Reconnect With Nature

 

Spring is returning to the northern half of this glorious Earth. Each day brings hints of the coming beauty. In my part of the world, globe willows now have their sweet and subtle golden-green halo. These are the first trees to show new life around here and it is wondrous finding more halos in the valley each day. Buds thicken on fruit trees and soon will pop their abundant white blossoms. Elms have tiny raspberry colored swirls which spiral through the air. Bees, awakened a bit early, stumble around, dizzy with potential and impossible duties.

Wild geese and sandhill cranes circle high above, honking and gathering, preparing to return to breeding grounds further north. Raven chicks will hatch soon, while the red patches of the male house finch fiercely blaze, enticing his mate to join him in nest-building. A single goldfinch heralds the coming of his tribe. Redtail hawks swoop and glide, returning to survey old nests or perhaps locate new, safer sites for their broods. I dig through the detritus of moving to locate the hummingbird feeders. Usually, our first hummingbirds arrive mid-April but it seems they may appear in March this year.

Our continuing and severe drought brings spring early; we worry that daffodils have flowered and that apricots will bloom a month early. We pray that rain and snow will still cover our parched lands with holy moisture but we also revel in warm days which energize our tired, winter-heavy bodies. Busy human sounds echo each morning and evening: chain saws cut down extraneous branches, rototillers churn gardens, and hammers repair fences.

I remember living in cities and waking up one day in March, knowing that spring was truly coming, that I had survived one more winter, one more February. That moment was always dancingly delicious. My mind cleared somehow. I became energized and hopeful. I no longer spun in the maze of my winter-dulled mind. I had to be outside, digging, jumping, laughing, dancing. Oh, dirt: warm, fertile, nurturing dirt. I watched for peregrine falcons around the downtown high-rises, dive-bombing hapless pigeons. Bird-counting became a passion; I had to know which birds had returned to my neighborhood, who would be my companions during the summer. I walked and ran, just for the joy of being physically active again.

May spring renew your hope, bring you physical pleasure, encourage your return to humanity, and reawaken your joy. May you plant one tree, one flower, one small moment of grace. May your reinvigorated energy contribute to the positive, life-affirming, glorious stream of consciousness which swims in us all.

With love,
Jeanne Treadway