It’s a cozy, gloomy Sunday afternoon here at the house. Little pops of pink are peeking through, amidst the few remaining brown leaves from last fall that, for some reason, still want to cling to winter. Some part of me does, too. The colder, darker winter months demand us to don multiple layers of insulation and protection. A hibernation of sorts. A time to reflect and center ourselves or, perhaps, to hide and retreat.
Spring’s arrival signals an energetic shift. Longer days shed light on dormant soil, beckoning sleepy seedlings and perennials to emerge with renewed vigor. I feel that pulse within myself, but like those lingering, brown leaves in the garden, I am also a little stubborn to embrace the change. There is something satisfying about being able to blame the winter season on any lack of energy or delayed starts on projects. I even revel in avoiding tedious tasks in the colder months – like not shaving my legs, for example. It’s another chore I can put off and cover up with layers and boots. Maybe that’s TMI, but you see the parallel of avoidance here.