Just last week, I was walking through a park in Ridgway, Colorado, looking for signs of spring. The calendar said spring had arrived, and I could smell it. There was a subtle warmth in the breeze, enhanced by the blue sky and bright sun. Some grasses on the path's edge dared to start creating chlorophyll again, changing from what looked like dead, dried-out brown to the familiar and welcomed green. The trees, ever so bare and drab, showed signs of regeneration if you slowed down and looked closely. The very tips of their branches started showing signs of budding. Small snow piles were still in shadowy areas, and the mountains were bright white with their heavy snow-filled peaks. Yet change was on the precipice.

We go through seasons, just like nature, and these are my musings on the season I am entering....spring. I reflect on what that actually means and how important it is to pay attention to the shifts within each season of nature and within ourselves.

Grief is such a fantastic teacher. It is a complex thing, with ebbs and flows, deep caverns, and spacious open space. It is a prism of dark colors, yet it can offer bright radiance if you stay with it long enough. I never thought I would want to honor grief in such a manner, as it has been a torturous partner in my life. Yet, it has shown me how deep my heart can be and how much it can hold.

A few weeks back, I was sitting with a warm breeze blowing on my face, hinting that the warm breeze was quickly becoming a hot breeze. The forecast indicated it would hit 100 degrees soon. The light wind was rustling through the peach orchard I was surrounded by while I occasionally swatted at gnats landing on my shoulder. The air was hot but clean and fresh, with hints of fresh-cut grass.