Dear Family and Friends,
2019 started out with a major snowfall. It even made the news in the USA. According to today’s reporting style, we were suffering a natural catastrophe of apocalyptic proportions. We were suffering in chaos and danger. According to most people living here, this was finally a “real winter” like there used to be.
In reality, we really didn’t notice it much. Thomas did shovel snow for 4 days straight with the fire department and I did the best I could to shovel our walk a few times a day and go out and take photos of the natural beauty and the clearing of our city center.
But the problem was not the amount of snow. It was the weight of the first snowfall that was so dangerous. Eventually, the weight of that heavy snow caused branches to break and trees to collapse. Avalanches lead to landslides shaving off slopes, cliffs and mountainsides.
While we couldn’t see the destruction under the snow in depths of winter, when it melted the damage became all too visible. It was quite depressing, actually.
That is always the worst part of winter—the grey before spring. Everything looks dead and hopeless. The sun doesn’t seem to shine. The snow no longer covers the wreckage. The cold is no longer inviting. It is the most uncomfortable month of the year.
But suddenly, literally overnight, it seems brighter outdoors. It’s time for the triste damp, grey days to retreat from the incoming promise of spring.
Birds can be heard calling to each other. Blackbirds and magpies are hopping around pecking in the thawing ground. Sparrows have started their courting rituals and are looking for a good nesting spot.
We see flocks of egrets and herons on our way to work. Every once in a while, a stork can be seen hanging out with them in flooded farmer’s fields right next to the ducks taking a leisurely swim.
This year is especially magical. The damage of winter—so depressing—has worked its annual miracle. This year seems to be making up for the snow by exploding into an amazing spring. Broken branches are sprouting new branches bending under the weight of blooms instead of snow.
Flowering shrubs are bent over with more flowers than I can remember seeing. Forsythia shines golden in the sun.
The cherry and magnolia trees are positively dripping with pastel flowers.
An older gentleman was up on the hillside taking photos. We got to talking and he said that he had never seen so many wild hellebores in all his years walking these forest paths.
There were so many he had driven home, called his wife to grab her coat and get in the car while he picked up his camera. Every year they drive an hour to a private garden for a hellebore display. “This year,” he said, “we won’t need to drive away—we have our own display here right next door.”
He is right. We have our own glimpse of Eden right outside our door.
This makes me even more excited to having my own yard next year. We won’t get to it this year, but next year is the year I can start bringing my dream garden to life.
May your spring be as bright and full of hope as ours is.
