What seems like just a few days ago, I was deep in the heart of winter. Enjoying the arctic chill of the out of doors set in direct contrast to the backdrop of a warm house- with a fire blazing, it's deep hues of orange and red pushed against the glass panes.
We had fallen into our cold weather routine- and it was lovely. Big Breakfasts, cleaning up as a family to the beating tones of Mumford and Sons- always the boys first pick. From there we would all take to the fireplace room, warm drinks in hand to read or partake in mancala tournaments, all before we would lay our little miss down for a morning nap, while we commenced to schooling. Using her post sleep wails as our closing bell- we would grab a quick lunch before bundling up and heading out for an afternoon spent playing with mother nature.
We had a thing, a rhythm- It was working.
and now it's not.
These wee bugs have become tightly wound balls of highly compressed energy- ready to explode at any moment. They are over the cozy and the methodical. You can see it in their eyes, an almost crazed longing for adventure, warmth and freedom. They want to run wild and build and explore- they are craving the deliverance that only spring can bring them. I can feel it welling up inside me too. A deep longing for sunshine to warm the tops of my shoulders and caress the back of my neck. To dig my hands into the cool, soft earth- planting seeds and bringing forth life.
There is something wholly special in the changings of the seasons. Bringing with it an awakening, a renewal of routines and refreshing metamorphose of drill. I can feel the heartbeat of spring coming forth within us- a feeling of power like we ourselves could call up the tulips, buttercups, violets and vervains.
Change is coming, and we-for one, are ready.