Spring Breakthrough
Small shoots poke up through the dead leaves of the forest floor. If I look carefully, I see the tiniest of white flowers pushing out their blooms. In the water under the boardwalk where I stand, small frogs leave ghostly imprints right below the surface and their calls fill the air around me. Beside me, Stella, the dog, points her nose toward logs laying jumbled and we both watch as a small raccoon appears around the corner, sniffs the air and deftly climbs up and clings to the side of a tree, rooting for insects. As we get back on solid ground, four young turkeys trot away from us down the path. Today, nature is on the move, straining towards the light and the occasional warmth, pushing itself through the soil, letting out its new breath, slowly but relentlessly turning the world green.
I sometimes think it won’t happen. I grumble about the cold, the gray skies, the dull trees. But if I take the time, I see it there, right under my feet. It’s during these days in between the dormant gloom and the full out glorious bloom that I really appreciate the home canning I did last summer. When spring is not quite sprung, I can reach for one of the glass jars on my pantry shelf, pop open the lid and unlock the flavor of last year’s bounty. The bright color and flavor of summer pickles brings the sunshine to my table. The perfect ripeness and sweetness of August peaches takes me to those sweltering dog days of late summer. And when I eat the beets, bloody red and earthy, I see their deep green leaves pushing through the dark fertile ground. I smell the scent of growing things. The harvest collected in my jars keeps spring and summer at my fingertips and on my taste buds.
As the canning jars dwindle down, nature ramps up. As the color leaves my shelves, it arrives on my doorstep, just in time. In the next few weeks, I’ll be getting my hands in the dirt with the scent of blossoms around me. Nature will dress itself again in the soft palette of spring and share her bounty. New life will energize the remnants of winter. Meanwhile, I’ll savor the last of last year’s goodness as I get ready for rebirth and growth around me. And I’ll take in the energy it brings.
