New

In the first days of March, spring moves forward in steps tentative and tiny. Snowdrops appear. Birdsong seems brighter and happier. But movement is slow and uncertain. Spring is unsure of itself and snow might fall and cover the early shy blooms and quiet the birds.

And then, something shifts and the change after change falls upon us in a quick succession of gifts. Crocuses explode. Spring peepers sing in an exuberant, deafening chorus. Sunshine falls onto our pale faces. Daffodils and hyacinths cover the ground that seemed dormant just a day ago. Black, empty branches give birth to a thousand of buds; the buds grow and tiny blooms unravel, at first just one or two, then all of them at once. I walk through the forest and savor the words as I say them. Spicebush. Serviceberry. Dogwood. Redbud.

And then one evening I open my door, look up at the dark moody sky to see the moon and instead see my old cherry tree covered in promise. The next morning I step outside expectantly, my heartbeat quickened. Where a dark old tree stood only yesterday, there is an exuberant white miracle. I can’t see the branches under their joyful burden of blooms. Little white and pink blossoms make a cloud so enormous that our little house is hidden by it.

Hello, spring. You are always new.

My name is Maria Fafard and I am grateful to meet you. I believe that wherever we are, countless gifts of joy and wonder are offered to us every day – and all we need to do is be present enough to notice and accept them. You can follow me on WordPress (mariafafardwrites.wordpress.com), on LinkedIn, and on Twitter (@mariafafard).