The past month, traditionally when the weather turns warmer
and the leaves and plants burst forth, I’ve been driving. A family situation has often taken me away
from home, and so I have watched the progress of the season from afar. In reflecting on this, I find that it is very
comforting to know that even while my life takes new turns and directions, the
ways of nature remain constant.
We all know what a slow spring it has been. The month of June has arrived, and the leaves
are still not fully out. My tulips are
finally blooming. Lilacs? Probably won’t happen from my bush this
year. I have seen them in parts south of
us. But at that, it still seemed to be
on a later schedule than the one that I remember from my life in the city so
many decades ago. Our northwest wind
continues to blow, keeping the air temperature in the forties, as it skims its way across the cold waters of the lake.
The fishermen have kept me abreast of water temperatures, and the big
lake currently seems to match that forty-something air.
I’ve learned that even though spring isn’t happening on my
preferred timetable, it still is progressing.
The familiar colors of chartreuse and lively greens are beginning to
show as a brushstroke on the landscape. Soon that will turn to the deeper shade
more akin to summer. The birds are busy
with nest-building and egg-laying. The
early breeders are bringing out their new young ones. I recently spotted an immature blue jay in
the pine tree, watchful parents nearby. I’ve
heard that the new crop of grey jays is out learning what it means to be a camp
robber. And the raven papa has stopped
coming in for hand-outs. That tells me that his babies are now out and about
learning to forage. I imagine we will
meet them one day soon, and the raucous babble of these adult-size juveniles
will fill the early morning quiet. (Much
to Paul’s chagrin, I might add.)
As I say, the constant pattern repeating itself can be very
calming. Recently, I spent some moments
on the banks of a river, far from here.
I noticed turtles on a log, sunning themselves. Ducks were swimming by, including a new
family of little ones. A tree had been
chewed nearly through by an energetic beaver.
All of these things were so familiar to me, and while I was processing
the news and the situation I was in at the moment, it was really helpful to see
that nature continues on in her patient way, doing what needs to be done no
matter what the calendar says. Some
years it will move faster, some years not.
But the process will remain somewhat predictable. I like that.
It really helps me, always, to spend time outside. Now it seems more
important than ever. It’s another
lifeline that helps me to clear my mind, to think, and to reflect. I am so privileged to live where I do.
