A little reflection

It’s the first week of March and spring is putting out feelers. Are we ready? Hell yeah. Much of Canada is still nestled under a blanket of snow but here in the most southest, westest corner of our country Mother Earth is whispering secrets of what is to come.

I’ve been noticing spring bulbs in the gardens around the neighborhood, little crocuses opening their faces amid the debris of windstorms; glimpses of purple, yellow and white peeking around pine cones and twigs. Snow drops braving the weather. But it was the unlikely sight of four tiny blossoms cheerfully pushing through concrete that really struck a nerve this morning.

The sight of a tiny flower defying the odds, seeking the shelter of a curb and buddying up to a cluster of weeds really moved me. It looked like ‘hope’ pushing through a crack in the pavement.

Chester had no idea why we had to stop and take a picture of the road. No clue that he was a witness to a miniature miracle. I knew though. I knew that the little plant had moved mountains in its wake, it had persevered and pushed and reached until it had reigned victorious. Until its fragile blossom could bloom on a late winter day and add its whisper to the upcoming season. I knew I was a witness to quiet glory.

Life feels like that to me sometimes. Like that little plant must have felt at the onset of its journey, like everything is dark and dense and heavy. Like if I push hard enough, for long enough, I will emerge eventually and that spring will arrive and everything will be brighter and full of possibilities. I’ve just got to push through the dirt, move the mountains and reach.

It’s the first week of March and yet I can feel the change in the weather. We may get another blast of winter – that little plant will weather it, and so will I.