Spring Forward

The time has changed. At least that’s what I call it. I did remember to move Mickey’s big hand forward, thankfully. The whole concept of “losing an hour” is always hard for me to adjust to, but I love the resulting presentation of daylight in the afternoon. That one little extra hour of light that progressively grows makes me feel like I have a whole extra day at the end of the normal work day. It’s an unmistakable sign of Winter’s end.

It’s getting to be Springtime in Mississippi. Each year in March, we begin that yearly flirtation with warmer days, sunnier skies and the emergence of color. The emergence is my favorite part. Yesterday, I took advantage of one of the few sun-sightings we had during the day and went out to photograph the Bradford Pear tree in front of my house. Bradford Pears are spectacular in Spring and Fall, but their Spring display always seems to be most welcomed to my spirit–probably because it brings a break from the gray of January and February. The white blossoms against bare brown branches are always a visual display of Winter’s dormancy giving way to Spring’s flourish. The buds are beginning to open and spread the surface area of their petals to soak up the sun. Soon, the green leaves will accompany them and the blossoms will fall away, having done their part in initiating Spring.

I find blossoming to be quite courageous.

Perhaps it’s Nature’s discipline in performing the task so resiliantly year after year that makes us take blossoming for granted, that makes us assume it is effortless. But I’m convinced that in the plant world and in the soul’s world, the courage to bear your color against the gray sky and prickly bramble and bare branch is remarkable. It doesn’t happen without pushing, withstanding, unwrapping, exposing, releasing. Whether it’s the first new blades of yellow-green grass that push their way through the straw-like ground or the rising stalk of a hyacinth bulb inching through a tight cluster of thick leaves, blossoming requires effort. In search of light, bulbs and new grass deliberately and patiently push through the hard and rigid ground to reach the surface, to break free from the dark earth. That journey is one of courage, to be sure.

The buds on my Bradford Pear have been there, lying dormant, for months now. In a tightly held cone of velvety leaves, they’ve been waiting for the right time. It happens that way every year. And somehow, taking their cues from the promise of sunlight and warmer temperatures, they choose when to unfold, when to begin that process of revealing themselves as the pink-tinged white blooms they are inside. As if simply surviving the dormant season wasn’t enough, they gently, consistently and methodically release the tightly wrapped surfaces to expose their petals to sunlight.

Although I’m half a month behind, the blossoms in my front yard served as inspiration for March’s desktop wallpaper calendar, just as they provided inspiration for my own state of flowering. And despite my tardiness (again), this day when we “spring forward” an hour seems the perfect time for my own call to spring forward. [If you need that inspiration as well, just point-click the image to get a full size copy.]

This season of beginning to save the daylight offers a new opportunity for blossoming of spirit. It creates the backdrop for new seasons of growth, revealing the true color lying dormant beneath the surface. I’m ready. But, I’m also realizing through the Bradford’s lessons that this new season requires my deliberate attention. Blossoming, indeed flourishing, doesn’t just happen. Like the grass seed, it requires resistance and persistence through my own rigid ground–those areas where I might meet with obstacles or misunderstanding. Like the bulb, it requires the expansion and cracking of the bounds in my own confined spaces–those areas where I have become complacent, accepting of my own seeming limitations. Like the bud, it requires the shedding of my own layers, my own willingness to open closed places–those areas where I’m tightly held and fearful of exposure. Spring brings the emergence of something new in defiance of Winter’s gloom. Do I have the courage to emerge? What am I made of? What’s inside? It’s time to show my colors.