Uncertain Skies

Up until last week Spring didn’t seem to exist, but she was there in the shadows of the cool mornings and hidden within the flakes of snow and up in the grey clouds.  We get so used to seeing Spring being the outgoing, flamboyant, carefree spirit she usually is that when she arrives sullen and quiet and dressed in muted colours that it catches us by surprise and we stop for awhile concerned, wondering if she needs a moment or a shoulder or whether we should just let her figure things out on her own.

We’re learning that she can be like that.  Raised to be independent, she can handle herself, though she has her tender emotional side that she will let you see in rare glimpses if you are paying attention on those early mornings, the dew a reminder of how much she cares for all these things in the garden.  But she is a child of change and has been given the unenviable role of cleaning up Winter’s messes and bringing order to the chaos he left behind, a job she does with grace and beauty, usually, but this year she has been troubled and is struggling to find herself and dealing with emotions and feeling that she hasn’t had to face in some time.

She can be violent and it surprises all but those who know her closely – storms can rage behind her eyes so quickly and with such ferocity that you have only your instincts left to save you, automatic reactions of survival.  Then just as quickly calmness and serenity return with the certainty of songbird voices in the treetops.  We can be fooled by her fragility if we are not careful, and so we learn to watch her closely and softly prepare for any kind of weather, hoping for the bright sunny days and wrapping warmth that will usher us through to summer, but carrying a light jacket just in case.

No one said this season would be easy or simple or even pleasurable – the human need for labels and clear-cut angularity is not a natural requirement – balance? Yes, complete order and fairness? Not so much.  The best we can do is stand by and respond when called to act.  Take those clear blue, wonderful days and use them to our mutual advantage, planting seeds to reap later; taking the time to tidy up the fringes and edges that will always get ragged and uneven with normal wear and tear; touching up the paint and protecting those things we want to last.

And when she turns and suffers through her anger and rage, lashing out at those who love her, threatening harm and plowing destruction across her path we must stand firm in our resolve, knowing a kind heart and loving hand still exist under the dark, tumultuous skies; that behind eyes flashing with pure intensity and under booming baritone voice she is in there still, the gentle soul and laughing child who longs to be of service; the small, innocent wonder we remember.

And so we wait out the storms.