Our weather these last weeks fools us into thinking winter is over: sunshine, windows-open warmth, gentle winds instead of chilling, stiff gales. And nature itself seems fooled. Geese fly north in multitudes, honking overhead and nesting in stubble fields. The ground begins to thaw, the corrals releaseing that springtime odor of rotting manure and wet dirt. And in my flower bed, the blue flax begins to sprout, several plants sending green tendrils up out of cold earth.
But four days ago, winter returned, and with it icy snow, plummeting temperatures, strong winds. How many geese find themselves shivering, looking for shelter? My plants' new shoots droop heavily, lifeless under ice.
Life fools us, too. As we grow, as we fly toward our true north, as we reach for the light, so often the icy blasts of soul-winter shock our system and threaten our spirit. A trusted friend betrays us. An accident robs our independence. A lie undermines our reputation. A job ends. Our bodies turn against us, with minor maladies or major illness. Someone we love leaves us -- either emotionally or physically. We find ourselves alone, shivering, miserable, afraid.
Geese who begin their northward migration, once blasted by winter's return, don't retreat south. They find more sheltered areas and wait out the storm. When the sun returns, they fly again.
A flower that sends up a green shoot cannot draw it back underground once snow falls. Sadly, that green shoot may die, but the life-force of the plant carries on. When the sun returns, new shoots burst forth.
Life chills us, stunts us, paralyzes us. There are no guarantees that some warm January days mean T-shirt weather is here to stay. We can only enjoy the sun while we have it. The cold will come again, but in life's ever-circling spirals, so will the spring.
