It is that time of year again when it isn’t quite spring yet, not really winter, and you may feel like you are stuck in the middle of nothing. I won’t go as far as to call it purgatory, but there is that sense of neither here nor there. Mother Nature always reminds me at the end of March and into April that transitions aren’t smooth. There are a few days of warmth, followed by a few days of cold. You cling on to the warm days and then recoil when the cold reappears. It can seem like a battle, even though you know that the new season will win out—eventually.
The past few days, my husband Andy and I’ve been working in the garden, prepping the soil for the emerging spring growth. Yesterday we spent some time spreading mulch over our flower gardens and we definitely had a battle. Although it was warmer outside than it had been for some time, the bags of mulch were partially frozen. Apparently, they had not yet made the transition to spring. We did what we could and used what wasn’t frozen and left the rest to thaw. Although we were frustrated, I found myself realizing that I was pushing for spring even though the mulch wasn’t quite ready. The nights have been below freezing, I reminded myself. Perhaps we started this project too soon?
I know that the answer is that we hadn’t started too soon. The early bird catches the worm. Being physical outside in nature, even with the frustrating solid mulch, gave me such joy and is helping me to move my spirit into early spring. It’s a good first step of the transformation to a flower garden.
You may curse Mother Nature for taking so long to make the transition, yet at some level you understand that she is giving you an opportunity to recalibrate. Not charging in too quickly, making a transition slowly with a few steps forward and then a few back peddles is a way to ease into the new. In these times of transition, I find it useful to think about what you are letting go of, and what you are welcoming in. By recognizing that a transition requires not just going after what’s new and wanted, but releasing what’s old and no longer needed, the process feels kinder.
In the early spring, you are shedding layers slowly, emerging from the comfort of inside. You might want to thank your home for sheltering you. You might want to do some more deep thinking and journaling about what you have learned this winter. You are prepping for all the abundance and bright display of spring that will happen in good time. Taken too quickly, you can feel overwhelmed. Instead, you can enjoy the anticipation of what will emerge once you get to the other side.