Spring in the making

Every morning I open the curtains of my living room window and check the progress of my magnolia in front of it. I go to look at the pear tree in the back garden, I look for the new growth in the front one. I look for the signs of spring, I’m consciously observing the change.

The spring comes slowly and I was never aware of this like I’ve become aware this year. Living in the cities my whole life, the spring was the from one day to the next. Suddenly all trees were turning green, everything was growing and blooming, without me consciously noticing the change happening.

But here, in the countryside, I’m closer to nature. I can see the buds showing, I notice how long it takes for them to become tiny leaves. I see it happening, I notice how much time the spring takes to become. There’s no hurry in the process. There’s deliberate slowness to it, even. Like it needs to be slow at the beginning to be able to give us the beautiful results we know we’ll get.

Maybe that’s how the change always happens. Maybe the slowness at the beginning gives us strength for everything that comes afterwards.

It takes time the spring tells me. And I quiet down. I stop pushing. I am allowing the change to happen at its own pace.


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