The past few days have been lovely. The sap is running furiously. Sunlight fills the house. Outback, in the woods, the first greenery of spring has risen to replace the departing snowbanks.
Given a spell of warm temperatures, and ample ground water, Life’s green fire moves to fill the world. At first, this movement towards verdancy, seems hesitant. Nights are still cold, and snow can return. Only the most hardy of plants venture forth tendrils to bathe in the increasing light. At the Equinox, the sun’s rays still falls at a steep angle, casting deep shadows throughout the forest.
In the days and weeks to come, the sun’s light will strengthen. In another ten weeks the soil will be warm enough to begin to put in the garden. We’ve already begun to peruse the greenhouses!
Thus, as we approach tomorrow’s Equinox, we are reminded that Nature stands on the fulcrum of the year: no longer winter, not quite spring. Here in Vermont we call this time “mud season”, the time when the deep frost of winter slowly leaves the ground and yields mud. Back roads become mires, challenging even for four-wheel drive vehicles. Yet, soon mud season, too, will be a memory, its challenges the stuff of local legend and family humor.
Each moment of our lives is a fulcrum. In the next instant we will no longer be who we are now, nor who we will be in another moment. Life is flux. The Equinox reminds us that like all of Nature, all of Life, we are ever-changing. Because there is change, there is also hope.