Signs of spring are popping into view all around us here in the Pacific Northwest. In Spring, I realize that I track all of the firsts. The first robin, the first daffodils, the first buds on the trees. I walked out into my backyard last Friday night, after dark, to let the dog out, and saw the first flower had shown up in the rain garden I created last summer/fall. I had just been out to the garden the day before and had scanned for signs of bulbs bursting but hadn’t seen anything where this trillium now stood. On Saturday morning, I took a look in the daylight and marveled at its fullness and sudden birth.
Saturday was sunny and warm, the kind of day where you could see the plants grow. Some of my perennials literally grew a foot from morning to afternoon, pushing their way toward the Spring sunshine like the cry of a newborn.
Today is another rainy day, nourishing the carrot seeds my kindergarteners planted in neat rows on Friday in our school garden. The Spring brings me a sense of power, that I can facilitate bringing to life food and flowers that will sustain me. It is also a reminder of how my actions are only one small stream among many converging streams.
Today is the new moon. I bow down to fertility, the movement of water and heat, the ever changing nature of things that seem solid, the inspiration of dreams.