Signs of Spring
By Alexis Mercer
There are certain things I hope to remember about this time in history.
The small things like the way my freshly ground coffee tastes after having the time to grind the beans, boil the water, gently pour little by little into the pour over and mug. The aroma that emanates from the handmade mug with a tree and its roots that reminds me to stay grounded and connected to what is important.
I hope to remember the way the light shines in the morning through the Peace Lily that I acquired from my Grandma Mick’s funeral flowers. How the rays have enough space to filter through the stems of the vibrant greens, providing life to the plant that is not just a flower, but a piece of me; a memory of my beloved Grandma.
Mostly I hope to remember how the first signs of spring have touched me in a different way this year. That walking along a trail, breathing in the fresh air that has a scent unlike the crisp, harsh winter air, I can see the tiniest buds emerging from the apple trees. That there are hues of purple, red, green, orange and blue bursting out from the winter hibernation greys and browns.
I hope to remember my children poking their noses over the edge of their Bogs boots to see if there are tadpoles or frogs on the edges of the pond, but ending up submerged to their thighs in the water that just that morning was being fed by snowflakes. That they gave in to the cold to explore and just be kids, enjoying everything nature was displaying for them.
I hope to remember that each day of spring brought new wonders for us to breathe in and enjoy: slowly and mindfully.
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