A Walk In The Park:
An occasional series.
To quote poet, ee cummings, “in Just spring when the world is mud-lucious..”
Here, in the Pacific Northwest it couldn’t be more true. Spring arrives here in waves of rain and wind. Some call it liquid sunshine. I call it wet, windy and cold, but it does make everything bright green and mud-luscious with occasional sprinkles of pink snow from blossoming plum trees.
As I walk my dog, Jilly, around the lake, the geese squawk loudly alerting their community to our presence and warning us to keep our distance from their nesting areas. I respect their homes and their beaks. You don’t want to mess with a protective goose, it’s dangerous. One thing that never fails to amaze me is their unity as a goose community. They all watch out for each other while at the same time protecting their own nests. They group together for nightly swims, and once the goslings are hatched, they all take part in protecting, feeding and teaching them. The goose unity always amazes and inspires me to search for such group unity in my own life.
As we head out of the park and through the suburban neighborhood, I notice some daffodils that have popped up one by one through the grass in someone’s front lawn. It’s obvious they weren’t planted there. They just came up from somewhere beneath the sod on their own. The bright yellow trumpets are even more spectacular against the green grass. And the fact that they ‘stand alone’ independent of a flower bed or planter, seems amazing.
It makes me wonder. It fills me with awe. It shows me that life will spring forth out of the unknown to bloom in the most unexpected places.
In these difficult times, when I’m fearful of all the unknowns in life, these little daffodils make a powerful point; that life grows up from the dark soil, through the tough grass and blooms brightly.
That gives me hope to believe that while I might be in the dark about the future, that doesn’t mean growth isn’t happening. As I walk along my path, there’s new life springing forth and blooming. Perhaps, all I have to do is remember to lift up my eyes and see it.
Speaking of learning life lessons from nature, be sure to come back next week and when I visit with author, Susan Tweit, about her wonderful book, "Walking Nature Home."