Way back in October I planted bulbs, excited at the prospect of them flowering from the frosts in February to midsummer. A few weeks ago most of them had pushed their green heads through the soil. I wanted to whisper to them ‘go back down, I know it’s warm right now, but frost is coming’. I even have a snowdrop in full flower. She obviously thinks it’s Spring.
Watching them grow made me wonder. Do they have any inkling as to what’s going on in our world, in this human construct? I doubt it, I guess they are just responding to unusually mild weather and taking their chance to get some growing done.
Their green shoots filled me with hope though. There’s something about seeing fresh growth that brings a smile, that feels like a promise that all will be well, even if things feel desperate. That’s what planting bulbs in the first place feels like. Planting a promise in the dark soil, covering it up and waiting. It’s an act of hope, of belief in possibility.
I’m writing this on Christmas Eve, sitting on the couch with a mince pie and a coffee. Our little dog, Roxy is guarding the house, sitting atop the sofa, growling at passersby. We adopted her 7 weeks ago, not knowing how our lives would change. She glows with hope too, makes us laugh and forces us to look beyond ourselves and our own needs.
Who knows what the Spring will bring? For now, we make space. We shed what no longer serves us, we sow seeds for next year and wait. We trust that if we make space to dream, those seeds will bloom and change will come.
As I sit in the warmth of Winter sun shining in my front window, I feel all the losses this year has brought. The weddings I couldn’t travel for, the missed holidays, the hugs I haven’t had, the cancelled Christmas plans, the loneliness. So much loss, felt by all of us in myriad ways and yet, I hope. I make space for new possibility, I reluctantly let go and trust that growth will come in that space. Wherever you are, whatever and whoever you have lost, I send you wishes of hope for a new year and a new age.
