Here Comes the Sun

I stopped in my tracks when I saw the tell-tale signs of life. 

For the first time this year, I saw the morning sun—sitting a bit higher, shining a little brighter, reaching tenderly between the still-bare branches. Each glimmer, hinting.

Every year, Winter clings stubbornly in a tug-of-war. But Spring always wins, with light and warmth steadily tugging the Northern hemisphere forward.

Creeping into my fifth year of living on the edge of the forest, I’ve come to recognize the subtle signs, Mother Nature’s quiet signals that we’re moving into a new season. 

When I was younger, seasonal shifts were marked by my school routines and hockey schedule. But now as a free wizard in the woods, now I feel the changes in my bones. 

The sunlight’s quality warps, growing more buoyant, more golden.

The air moves from carrying an underlying bite of cold, to a lining of warmth.

There’s fleeting beauty in the way the sun filters through the trees after months of grey skies—illuminating, nourishing, igniting, reminding the flora and fauna.

I can’t help but step outside in these moments of noticing. My face tilts up and my eyes close, absorbing the warmth not only into my skin, but somewhere deeper, somewhere in the marrow of my being.

The birds are still few, and there are no blossoms to be seen (except for on my awfully eager honeysuckle bushes). But the promise is here. If you listen closely and look deeply, you’ll hear the whispers that soon, the world will hum with life again.

And soon, the nature around my home shall explode with countless shades of green.  

My oh my, what a sweet sight for sore eyes!

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander