Cornucopia of spring
“Where the hell am I?” — I thought to myself. I mean, I knew exactly where I was. I was just entering the forest through the path there, like hundreds of times before. But the path looked so different today that I stopped for a minute to understand what I was seeing. A week ago, on the same path, in the same place, two people could pass each other or walk alongside each other without touching arms. Today, walking by myself, I could barely squeeze between the branches and leaves. The forest was green for a while, the annual spring renewal ritual had already started in nature. But just within a week, there was an unbelievable spurt of growth where all branches and leaves started to greedily grow and expand in every direction, closing the path there to a narrow trail. It happens every year, every spring. Nature uses every sunlight moment and every drop of water to make up time lost in winter slumber. And every year I am amazed by this spectacle. But even more so this year — I feel a heightened sense of understanding and see clearer this spectacle of rebirth. Every day and not just in the forest, but in my garden as well, I see more sprouting, more budding, more flowering. More color, more height, more bloom, and more assuredness in being there from all the grasses, flowers, shrubs, and trees. And from insects and the bees and butterflies and bugs and ants too. Every little thing in nature is busy growing, eating, pollinating, or just being pretty. I still wear my glasses, but it seems like I see it better and experience this spring with much deeper emotions than I can ever remember. And I am no longer worried about wasting time to stop what I am doing and just watch bees busily working on already blooming flowers.