A Gentle Awakening

After an unusually severe winter, Spring has arrived; not suddenly or abruptly with the turning of the calendar or the change to daylight saving time. No, Spring slipped in – as is her habit - softly, delicately.

As the days gradually grow longer and the temperature tiptoes toward lukewarm, the leaf buds on the oak appear - only the size of a squirrel’s ear at first. Clover blankets the still dormant lawn. A patch of sweet peas volunteer, seeded by last year’s vines, to bedeck the lattice fence behind the statue of St. Francis with pale green foliage and fragrant lavender blooms. The bulbs I planted in February pierce the soil with their slender blades – some will be daffodils, but I can’t remember what else I chose for the patio.

The azaleas show new leaves, but, within weeks, their greenery becomes obscured by pink and white blossoms. Over the course of the same weeks, I remove the remains of potted avocados and other casualties of winter, and trim back the ginger lilies and the banana that was a gift from a St. Louis guest. I place tiny begonias, petunias and impatiens in the planters and hanging baskets. The roses awaken, their new foliage almost wine-red, gradually moving across the color wheel to shades of green. The wisteria, still without leaves, fills vacant branches with cascades of sweet-scented blooms.

This Spring, we take measures of other subtle changes. Over the past three months, my grandson has mastered the arts of crawling, standing alone and walking. His first teeth emerge and give new character to his smile. He celebrates his first birthday in City Park’s Storyland. For myself, a long-awaited-not-entirely-new job moves me from the ranks of self-employed; it is my first full-time employment (with benefits) in over a decade. This change is imperceptible to the clients with whom I work.

As I rake the leaves for the last time, and dust off the lawn mower, I realize how precious these days are and how much I will miss Spring when she steps aside for Summer to take her place.

The sacred is in the ordinary, in one’s daily life, in one’s neighbors, friends and family, in one’s backyard.

- Abraham Maslow