We’ve officially entered the season of spring with the vernal equinox earlier this week. Things here in Minnesota don’t look particularly spring like just yet–there’s plenty of snow on the ground (I just walked a loop around the woods and sank in thigh deep a few places…) and the temperatures are below freezing every night, though the daytime high is starting to invite the great thaw to begin. On that walk around the woods that I just took, I took some time to lean into my other senses–I’m not sure what inspired me to do so but I think it may be the general drab-ness of how things look outside this time of year: the light is flat gray on these days with no sun, the snow is grimey, and even the deer paths are looking a little more haggard that usual. This time of sloughing off isn’t always pretty. But when I close my eyes and put aside my need to be a visual person, I hear layer upon layer of sound. At least five different types of birdsong fill the air, the wind is whooshing through the bare tree tops, and just a slight trickling of water is starting down by the otter trail into the lake. If I stand still enough in certain areas, a gentle drip drip drip fills my ears, as water reclaims its voice in the midst of lingering ice. Sandhill cranes trill overhead, and geese honk. My feet crunch the crusty snow, and I can feel the dampness in the air–the dryness of winter is leaving and spring’s wet energy is starting to flow. If I tapped the few maples that we share space with on the land, I could taste the season, too, as the sweet life blood of the tree starts to run in the form of sap. Just barely, but it’s here now. The east wind has arrived.
Some years ice out on the lake is late March, other years it’s not until the end of April. Given the fact there is still at least three feet of snow out there, 2023 is probably going to be a late April year. Sometimes the seasonal ravine streams on either side of the house are gushing by now, but this year there’s not much movement going on just yet–maybe after another week of temps in the 40s we’ll hear the cascade that lets us know that the shift has arrived in full. One year I planted carrot seeds on April 5th, but like the lake, there’s at least three feet of snow burying the garden at present, so seeds will not being going into outdoor soil anytime soon.
There’s waiting to do yet. But this year, I want to be sure to wait with all of my senses wide open to the transformations that are always taking place (even when they aren’t nice to look at), from the seasonal shifts of the earth to what’s undergoing change within myself and within the larger collective. Sometimes you can’t see all the layers of change–but when you close your eyes, maybe you can hear, or feel, or even taste the transformations that are awakening as the wheel of the year turns. Give it a go. What do you notice when you close your eyes?
In the North
Some years
spring arrives
with a release of warm air,
mud seeping around boots
as the frost lets go ‘til next time.
But more often
spring arrives
holding on tight to winter’s chill
snow crunching underfoot, everyone
wishing for warmth that isn’t quite here.
No matter how
spring arrives
on that vernal equinox
light and dark are balanced
poised to usher in something new,
something that pushes through
cold soil, intent on emerging
when the time is right.
Upcoming Events:
Ellie Roscher and I will be at Next Chapter Booksellers in St. Paul, MN on Wednesday, March 29 at 6pm CT for a conversation and signing. (Rescheduled from March 15.) Minneapolis/St. Paul dwellers, we hope to see you there!
Collisions of Earth and Sky is the featured book for WonderLIT, a deeply restorative retreat experience sparking wonder and enhancing wellness with literature, people and the natural world. If it's feasible for you, consider joining us April 14-16th for this unique two-night retreat in Concord, MA. Registration is open! I will be there in person, and look forward to spending some time in the Walden Woods and in conversation about nature connection and wellbeing.
I’ll be at Cream & Amber in Hopkins (with Emily Brisse) on Sunday, April 23 at 3pm-it should be a lovely afternoon of conversation at a great bookshop run by some fellow Luther College alums. Event is free, but RSVPs are requested due to the small space!