No Reason to Fear the Wind

Spring is normally a busy time for me at school.  I’m in charge of standardized testing, grade placement, and wrapping up all student support documents for the year.  Everything in my entire being yearns to resist this regimentation.  Rather, my body and mind desperately need to relax, refresh, and find things to celebrate.  I have no desire to analyze test scores, manage student placement for fall, or organize all the hundreds of pages of documents that I am responsible for keeping current and filing away in the right places.

Instead, I want to relish warm weather and blue sky.  I want to delight in bright colors and the air filled with the steady hum of bubble bees.  I left school one day just a half-hour early to find my way to my local garden shop, Back to Nature.  It is a place I revisit regularly to find my balance and connect with green and growing things. 

As I park my car and enter the space, I immediately feel at ease.  Yellow and purple pansies greet me.  I take a deep breath.  I consciously drop my shoulders and let go of all the stressors that have been accumulating throughout the day.  They all mean nothing .  What matters to me is beauty and flowers and the spiraling bees drunk on honey.

I let myself wander, taking photo after photo of spring colors in the form of flowers.  I inhale their fragrance.  I’m not at school any more.  This is my small moment to enjoy.

For about a decade or more, I’ve been slowly growing my roots.  Letting go of toxic people even when they are family and allowing myself to feel joy. Growing my roots was a hidden and slow process.  I have always felt a little untethered, aimless, impulsive. Now, as I approach seventy, I want to slow down, consider the small wonders all around me, take them in, and sit in gratitude with them.  I don’t want to rush around being anxious and fearful.  I am cultivating faith and peace.  I know I will need a steady supply of these as I age.

The garden sheds that in December were filled with holiday wreathes, flowers, and decorations are now transformed for spring.  Bouquets of tulips and daises line the shelves.  Statutes of bunnies, frogs, birds, and turtles hide in every corner.  A large banner hangs in one shed proclaiming “When the root is deep, there is no reason to fear the wind.”  I stop and smile at this garden wisdom.  I know I need these moments for my roots to dig more firmly into the ground.  I know that tending my inner garden is crucially important.  Without these bits of respite.  I would once again feel in flux, at the mercy of the slightest of breeze.  Now, I have dug in deep, spread my strong and agile roots.  Now, I can’t be easily toppled.  Now I stand firm.