That faint, far off feeling of Spring coming on has always held me in its clutches. Not because I live in a cold war zone winter climate and I’m longing for warmth or sunshine or unencumbered existence, no. I long for Spring because I long for renewal—heartfelt start-overs, forever fresh do it differently’s, newness, different landscapes to observe and an alternate way to be.
It’s not that I dislike my day-to-day way of being. I forge forward and I observe what I do in the Winter, when things are more covert than above ground, and I bide my time until the time when I can bloom. Spring is the thing that makes it so. Spring is the thing that gets my engine revving—eager for the next adventure, the next place, the next project to explore.
In the Winter I hibernate and think. In the Spring I pop up, take aim and shoot, like an arrow that possesses some kind of magical thinking, knowing that now is the time to wake up and make a beautiful mess of things.