Growing up in Iowa, I remember more than one Easter where the frigid temperature forced me to wear my winter coat, covering my beautiful new Easter dress mother had fashioned at the sewing machine. I protested all the way to church, to no avail. Last week it snowed across the upper Midwest. The snow spared us in Kansas City but once again, Iowa and points north weren’t so lucky. So how do we go from snow on Thursday to red bud trees bursting with color the next Wednesday?
Spring, fickle spring. The shadows of spring chill to the bone, while the sunshine warms like summer.
Mark Twain spoke to this longing at the end of winter, as the snow recedes and daylight lengthens, when a day teases with a softer breeze and hyacinth blossoms appear bravely on branches. He said, “It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!”
Walking through our yard I discovered a single flower on the ground-cover, blossoms on the plum bush, and wild violets spreading in the grass, welcome harbingers of spring. In Marcello’s Promise when Luisa was homesick for Italy, she remembered the flowering pear and plum trees. “As a child, she thought heaven couldn’t be any prettier than their hillside when the trees were full of blossoms.” When Mark Twain spoke of longing for spring, he didn’t know about the spring we are experiencing this year. We are living in a difficult time. This year, more than any other in memory, our hearts ache for not only the return of spring but something greater.
Our hearts long
To be released from illness and loss
and health restored
To be let loose from our confines
To care for others, to return to work
To wander and ramble as we please
To hold and embrace those we love
To be renewed with a breath of fresh air free from worry
To soak up contentment and peace
To find the promise of spring, one blossom at a time.
May we all find the promise of spring
Red buds courtesy of Sweetwater Lake, Indiana April, 2020
What lovely writing, Jane. You have expressed so well all those things I have been feeling.
Thank you for sharing. It’s a gift I receive gratefully.
Carole, I just read that the neighbors are thinking of eating lunch together outside at Gerry’s house. That’s a way to step forward into recovering I hope. I’ll miss being with you. Have a great time reconnecting 🙂
My dearest, Jane.
How lovely you describe the wonderful memories of Spring in Ames. I will never forget the Easter morning, I think I was in 9th grade, when I went to sunrise service at 7am and the sun was bright and the sky so blue. But when I left the church after Sunday School and Service there were 4 inches of fluffy, cotton white snow on the ground. Even in the stillness as I slowly stolled home my heart sang God’s praise for such a magnificent display of his wondrous love.
I truly believe that God will lead us through this terrible plague and show us another magical Easter Snow.
I must apologize for being so slow to respond to your beautiful memory of a snowy Easter in Iowa. Of course we had more than one such Easter 🙂 All things in His time, right? I feel blessed to stay healthy and hope to continue so. You, too. Thanks for writing and I’ll try to keep up with my blog site better!