If you’ve been hanging around me for the last few weeks, you know I’ve been on the lookout for signs of spring.
I tried to get a picture of the first trees budding, but wouldn’t you know it, the leaves were all red – and I was looking for green. By the time they looked green, they were too big to be a “first sign of spring.”
Last week, I captured the first blooming tulips and daffodils I’d seen this year in a picture for you all to enjoy. I even bought some potted daffodils and a hyacinth; believe it or not, the hyacinth is still alive.
I haven’t had a chance yet, but one day soon, I’ll go visit the lilac bushes in my grandmother’s yard, which is now my mother’s yard, where I used to play hide and seek.
Why am I so eager to see spring?
Well, first, I hate being cold – with a passion. Ever since I had my thyroid out 15 years ago, being cold hurts. So, I long for spring and milder temperatures.
There’s another reason. A few years ago, I was going through a pretty dark time — during the winter. Trees were bare, no sign of green anywhere.
But there was one tree, standing alone along the roadside on a path I traveled every week. It was bare like all the rest, but, somehow, it was beautiful. It became a source of strength for me.
I’d see it as I passed by. It would stand there like a promise.
“I’m still alive. There may be no signs for you to see, but deep inside, I am alive, and spring is coming.”
I’ve always loved trees. As a child, one of my favorite things to do was sit high up in a tree and read a book. There was a fallen, but still alive, tree in the chicken pen that was one of my favorite places to sit. Another was the tree with the grape vine I used as a swing.
But this began my love for bare trees. I paint them; I write about them; I have one as the screen saver on my phone; I’ve even thought about getting a tattoo of one. They have a beauty and a strength that speaks to me.
I wear a ring with a tree of life, not for the traditional reasons of longevity and immortality and rebirth, but so I can carry my tree with me.
And, guess what? Spring came. My tree made good on its promise. Green leaves showed the life it told me was inside. I could smile and laugh and breathe.
Then without warning, it was winter again – a deeper, darker winter than I had ever seen.
My tree was still there. I didn’t pass by so often, but I still saw it. Standing strong and showing me that I could, too. Reminding me that I could make it. Even though I was frozen and couldn’t feel any life around me, I held on to the strength my tree had given me.
It’s spring now. I’m smiling again, even though there’s still a touch of winter in the air from time to time. There are leaves starting to fill out on the trees. I even believe it might be summer one day.
Spring is a promise fulfilled. If it doesn’t last, it will come again. Stay strong through the winter; see the beauty in the starkness; and hold on to the knowledge that life is only sleeping.
Spring matters — it matters deep inside your soul, because it is a promise that winter cannot last forever.
Tell me what matters to you.
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Contact the writer at
rsmith@crestonnews.com.