Transitions of Spring and Life

One of the most poignant and difficult transitions in my life was moving from a household of five to gradually becoming a household of two again.  It was much more difficult than transitioning from two to five.  But it certainly followed the flow of Life, the reason for parenthood—to raise up offspring in loving care so they would become independent adults living their own lives.

Here in Central Minnesota, we are still in the Spring transition.  Signs of the old—winter dormancy and fall foliage—still are apparent even as the new green grows up around the old.  Most of the deciduous trees now have small, unfolding leaves, though still looking more bare than there.  The Wild Plum tree is white with blossoms, small pink flowers buds are scattered on the Apple trees, and the Daffodils are blooming in their fragrant, cheery yellow beauty.  Within a mile of our place are a number of small ponds and wetlands—some only hold water in the spring and dry up during the heat of summer.  Others are large enough or fed by springs and creeks that they are the habitat for many different animals all year round.  The first small pond had many cattails—old and new—and not much water.  But it was home to a solo-singing frog who was later joined by two other voices as I stood nearby taking pictures.

The next body of water I walked by was a small lake populated by waterfowl, turtles, and muskrats.  A pair of Canadian Geese swam together at the far side of the lake, dipping their heads into the shallow water, sometimes going bottoms-up in their search for food.

Like the bottoms-up goose, the Lily Pads uncurl by sticking up in the air before laying flat on the water’s surface.

A line-up of turtles were sunning themselves on a mud barge, happy for warmth after a winter of hibernating.

On the other side of the road from the lake was a small pond and wetlands where the new green grass was becoming dominant.

An old nest rested among the new leaves.

Pine-cone Willow galls, made last year, house pink, grubby larvae that pupate in the spring and hatch as adult gnats.  The old cone ‘houses’ and the new lime green flowers and leaves are the epitome of this Spring transition.

Transitions are always a little tough, whether going from Winter to Spring or Autumn to Winter, from health to sickness or injury to healing, from a busy, vibrant household to a quieter, calmer environment or from a carefree, me-and-you life to baby makes three or four or more.  With each transition of our lives, it’s good to take some time to appreciate the old way, to have gratitude for the things that served us well, and to learn from the difficulties that wrenched our hearts in sorrow or pain.  Perhaps that is why Spring is slow in its unfurling.  As the old way slips away, we make room for the new.  We are happy for the warmth.  We shed another layer of our childish ways to become more adult-like.  We build a new nest.  We join with other voices who know the song we’re singing.  With peace and renewed energy, we merge once again with the flow of Life.