Snapdragon.
Something new in the early days of a new season. Spring fast unfolding into summer. But for now I’ll enjoy the moments that feel less stifling and cherish the new blooms as they burst out of their tiny hideaways, popping with peachy pink petals. From dainty dark lairs, to brilliant revealing sun.
At other times, progress is imperceptible. And I grow impatient. Will these flowers “take”? Or will they die before they see the full light of day?
And then there are the days of extreme, suffocating heat. When breathing is a labor and cool is illusive. These days are coming. And these are the days when living things wither under the weight of weariness with the unrelenting scorch of sun’s rays. Sometimes a gentle rain in the evening is all that’s needed to renew the perk to shriveled leaves and drooping petals.
So, too, are the seasons of our lives. Be it our age, our career path, parenting, grand parenting, the list goes on. My current season feels like spring and early fall all at once. On one hand, new endeavors are beginning to sprout and even bloom, some color peeking through. But then, on the other hand, I sense the sobering reality of walking into the second half of my life. There’s a quietness and slowness that comes with the passage of time. A realization of who I actually am – who I’ve always been, but maybe kept buried in some ways.
For me this is a season of continuing to walk, but not to run. To take in the sights and sounds of a teenage daughter, to delight in long-distance video calls with grandchildren, and to appreciate each moment with the one I’ve covenanted to love for life. And in the slowing down, to see and receive the new buds that are drawn out by the light of the sun. To soak up the sunshine, to relish the raindrops, to grow – however slow – where I’ve been planted for now.
Today I’m noticing onion tops poking through the dark soil, new blooms on pepper plants, and the soft sweetness of snapdragons that have taken their place as sentinels flanking my front door. As time races on, I will endeavor today to savor the slower moments, and to let the sun draw the new blooms out of me.
And may you, too, be able to receive your season – whatever that might be – and notice the lovely gifts it brings.
Carlee Ragains 