There’s something about Spring that dyes Winter rose. She has a kind of hypnotic quality that makes one instantly forget the months of thermal socks and frozen fingertips. Just a week ago, my ribs were caving inward in an attempt to keep my organs warm as I sat shivering at this exact spot near the window.
And yet today, the birds have returned to their perches to sing new, but familiar melodies. The timid sunlight peers in and tiptoes across the wooden floor, and peach colored buds flutter on the once-bare maple branches just outside my porch.
I freshen my mug of Purple Bamboo green tea and nestle back into my chair. The bold, asparagus flavor of this particular green tea is rounded out by a faint, sweet aftertaste. It’s simultaneously crisp and silky, perfect for a season like this; an essence that seems to embody Spring herself.
While Spring symbolizes the sweetness of hope, transition, new life, she also carries the
bitterness of nostalgia and a reluctance toward change. She stirs up the emotional packrat in me, prompting the little child inside that clings desperately to the things that are known and comfortable. Spring comes around with her warm embrace and vibrance that kisses me awake and gingerly pulls the thick wool from my body. She peels away my shutters and opens the windows to reveal the dust that has accumulated in the corners—illuminating the things that I’ve outgrown and the weeds that have lingered for
too long in the shadow of Winter.
Change is the season that we must all go through year after year in order to grow. Spring
helps us to poke at our stiff, sleepy hearts, to clear out the old thought processes, our old habits, our old loves, in order to experience the beauty of adventure, new relationships.
The sweetness of the Purple Bamboo lingers on my lips as I look outside again. The frost has retreated back into its caves exposing the grass beaming with ardent verdure. It’s time to grow where I am planted.