I had the privilege of walking through my mother's garden this weekend. Everywhere there were signs of spring. The daffodils and narcissus were in full bloom, the hyacinths were budding and filling the air with their sweet scent. Tulips bent gracefully in the afternoon breeze and jasmine covered the arbor in a romantic tangle of glossy green leaves and bright yellow bell-shaped flowers. Tiny wild violets dotted the lawn and a few dandelions dared to show their sunny faces. The dogwood trees shimmered in the afternoon light, full of buds, ready to burst. Big fat bumble bees buzzed. Birds made their way back and forth between the cedar trees and the bird feeder, fussing at the squirrels who insisted on stealing their sunflower seeds.
I looked around and thought about my plants and flowers at my own home, suffering from neglect that comes from a person who has withdrawn from the world. Last year, I lost some plants that I have had for years and years, because like myself, I did not take care of them.
I realized that it's time for me to leave this winter behind. Spring is here and I'm ready to get back in the garden.