Today as I sit writing in my garden fantails work busily in the Totaras and a crisp breeze exercises the spiders webs draped there. I catch myself thinking of a friend’s comments on Spring. She told me of how it is her favourite season, that sense of the new, ready to burst forth. It made her feel energised, she said. Well, all I’m feeling is a mild confusion. I know Spring is about the place, she keeps leaving calling cards. The shining cuckoo & the quail are both back, the plum blossom floods the garden with siren perfume. As I watch, her branches bounce up & down with the joy of tiny wax eyes feeding. So why the confusion? There is a definite bi-polarity to Spring, she is unabashedly moody. One day its sunny, the next a dull grey sky blunts the enthusiasm. First she gives, then she takes away… I feel my spirits lift after a day of warmth & another pruning or planting task finished; only to have the next morning begin with heavy showers & a biting wind. This is the truest reminder of the transitional nature of Spring & like all transitions there is discomfort as part of the package. Every year she reminds me & I get better at relaxing into the experience of living day by day. There will always be another sunny day & soon, so much sun that gardening will become an early morning/late afternoon activity. I accept with grace the time of rest a dull day brings, knowing that without reflection my actions may be in vain.


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