It was something of a relief to turn over the calendar to a new month this morning. January was full of dark and grey days and, in spite of it being my birthday month, I struggled. Then came the rain and snow of February, and it felt as though winter would never end.
Spring always brings so much promise and hope and, after the events in the world over the last year, it seems as though we are clinging on to this hope more than ever. It is amazing, and frightening, to think that we have spent almost a year in lockdown. Our lives have been put on hold in the most dramatic of ways, and we have gone from being gregarious human beings to isolated souls. This year, spring really does seem to bring the anticipation of better days ahead.
Since 16 March last year, our lives have evolved to be orchestrated from behind a screen. That human touch, for the immediate future at least, firmly remains a thing of the past. It makes you wonder what the new ‘normal’ will be. Will we ever hug a friend again? Will we be able to reach out and hold someone’s hand when they are sharing emotional news? Will we be able to kiss someone hello? In short, the way the world is at the moment, no one knows.
Yet there is hope. I always find that hope is always the strongest in spring. The wildflower part of our garden always comes alive at this time of year, with snowdrops, primroses and crocuses appearing as if overnight on the lawn. All perfectly imperfect, each flower, growing alone and away from constraints, shows strength, determination, and a solitary will to succeed combined with beauty, fight, and desire to thrive.
I think that we all have a little bit of that spirit within us right now. We are just waiting to emerge from the shadows and dance once more – just like those mad March hares that race across the fields behind out house. I know that I, for one, cannot wait to leap up once more and embrace all that spring, and beyond, has to offer.