It was the first day of spring this week. I should have been outside twirling in the daffodils, basking in the sunshine, hanging bells and baking honey cakes.
Instead, I shuffled around the house in my slippers and tried to coax a tiny little cup of coffee to warm both my core temperature and my heart.
The 60-70-degree days a couple of weeks back did nothing to make Tuesday’s windy high of 32F feel like spring. I feel like I’m supposed to be dancing about in a field of four-leaf clovers wearing flowers in my hair and a floating linen sundress, singing with the birds and kissing bunnies.
It’s snowing this morning.
I’m sorry spring, but it’s all fluffy blankets and lap cats over here this week.
As a human person, I sometimes have this idealistic picture of what life is supposed to be like – what I’m supposed to be like. I should be adaptable, open, and resilient, navigating change with grace and poise. That’s not exactly what it looks like when I’m turning over couch cushions for missing homework, still waking up groggy two weeks post time change, left the broken wheelbarrow in the yard for three weeks, and am making some random pantry surprise for dinner because I didn’t make it to the grocery store at all last week.
For those of us keeping it all together a bit ungracefully, not yet sure how we’ll handle tomorrow, I think March has some lessons for us.
I don’t like March and I don’t believe anyone who says they do.
March is cold and windy and wet and drab and muddy; meanwhile, we’re ready for warm, sunny days, lush green trees, and bare feet in the grass.
The thing about March though: it’s an in-between. A time between times and a place between places. March isn’t the before or the after, it’s the transition itself – and it’s messy and stormy and confusing and uncomfortable. March is disorienting and void of landmarks.
And if March has to be a complete wreck in order to bring Spring, maybe it’s ok for us to be a bit of a wreck too when we’re navigating the in-betweens in our lives. Maybe it’s ok to be uncomfortable and messy when we’re walking through an unpredictable maze, imperceivable to the world around us.
When I say it aloud, it seems a little presumptuous to think that I should handle change with more grace than Mother Nature herself.
And on that note, I’m going to go dream of summer breezes and cut flowers while snuggling my cat instead of scolding myself for not having sown my cold-weather veggies yet. The groceries can wait another day, the veggies will get planted, and it’s okay if my transition to spring is less than picture-perfect.
~ alesia