Two Springs

I just returned from the Midwest.  It is May, and the Spring season is in full bloom there.

In Arizona, we had our "Spring" season over a month ago, and now, the temperatures have already climbed into the triple digits.  

In Iowa, however, the season is definitely "Spring".  The apple blossoms are in full bloom.  The violet lilac flowers have opened and are spreading their sweet fragrance. Fresh (and freshly picked) rhubarb pie and asparagus casserole are the dishes of the season.  The little green rows of baby corn have emerged through the black soil.  And my family just finished planting the last bean fields (Yay!  It's always a relief when the crops are in).  

I am reminded of the "Spring" season in Arizona a month and a half ago.  I love the Spring, and this year, I was fortunate enough to experience two of them.  I want to share my reflections that I wrote in late March about this time in my desert home... 

New Moons & New Beginnings: Spring in Arizona

March 26, 2009

I sink into reverie as I awake amidst the morning song of the birds outside of my window.  It's the breaking of the day.   I love this time.  The awakening.  The cheerful birds celebrating the dawn and return of light.  

This is the time when I feel most open...to the world, to my senses, to possibility. It's the "in between" time...when the peace of what's passed is laid to rest, the opportunity of the day that lays ahead is waiting, and all that's left is the present moment of being...completely open.

It is Spring now.  The first new moon was two days ago.  I feel my instincts resonate with the season...urging me to plant seeds and grow roots in the wide openness, and watch in awe as the green sprouts emerge and flowers open.  

It's the season of possibility.  Of planting seeds and growing roots in the "in between".

Every moment there is the chance for birth and for re-birth...to create again or to start anew. To take every part of what was, fully integrate in to what is, and transform into what will be.

It's the dawn of possibility.  No wonder I hear the birds celebrate each morning in song.