God blooms the earth from frozen ground and small seeds. He burst open the grave of winter year after year after year and that’s just the scenery. That’s the setting. How much more the graves of our hearts? How much more the various needs and facets and branches of our lives?
Spring is a time of growth, but it’s a violent time. It’s a time of tearing and budding and sprouting. A seed that has lay dormant in the soil for the Winter begins to split in two. Earth is moved aside on its ascent and descent as it pierces the earth. Flowers rising on the stalks and branches of their bearer reach a crescendo as they burst into flames of purples, violets and lavenders—and that’s just one hue.
The color palette is amazing. The most fleeting part of the tree is the most beautiful. Its flower signals spring and new life. It is a fragrance of color that arrives and disappears almost as suddenly leaving shades of green in its wake. Like Fall, color seems to signal change. Color is the changing of the guard.
As Spring begins to hatch in our little haven of a garden, here in Seattle, I find myself wondering what has lay dormant in my soul this Winter. What will burst forth this Spring in me that has been slowly growing towards the light waiting to reveal it’s color.
first posted on Fresh Bread