Spring in Colorado (and what I'll be doing this morning)

Dear people who live in temperate climates:
Right now you're probably rising up to enjoy a cup of coffee on your patio, soaking in the morning sun. Can you smell the flowers blooming all around you? And the scent of fresh green floating through the air?

Can you?

Because I want you to know that I can't smell any of those things.
Why? Because here is where I live. In case you missed it, the date is March 24th, and this is Colorado. And the two photos above were taken from my driver's seat last night.
And this is the view from my back door this morning.
Now, in case you've never experienced a spring snow storm (because instead you're lying in the beach getting a tan), let me tell you a few things you should know.

First, the snow is HEAVY. Very, very heavy. So you can think of me as I'm trying to heave piles of it off my driveway this morning with a shovel.
Second, in addition to the shoveling I'll have to take a tour through my yard knocking all of the snow off the trees and shrubs. Because HEAVY snow breaks branches.
And all of this effort will make me a) exhausted and b) sore. And then when it's all finished, the sun will come out and melt everything that's left by tomorrow.
Because that's just how it is in spring in Colorado.

So, people of temperate climates who are going to work right now wearing skirts and sandals--be thankful. Because I have to go put my boots on now and lift hundreds of pounds of wet snow.

I just thought you should know...

Sincerely,
stephanie

Setting the Pace (more thoughts on reCentering)

This time of year is rather two-faced, don't you think? One day it promises a hint of warmth and sun and spring, and the next it slips right back into winter.

In a word, it's a tease. A flirty, coy tease.
Needless to say, "the tease" and I have been spending some time together recently on my regular prairie walks. And you can tell just from the photo collages above and below, that the scenery shifts dramatically from one day to the next.

And naturally--since I've been in a very reflective mood lately--I've been pondering this shifting in my own life. I mean--is it just me or do you feel like this season involves a lot of stutter-stepping? For instance, some days I wake up bursting with energy and ideas, and then other days I slip back into the habit of figuratively curling up and only doing the things that Have to get done.
The truth is that I sense change on the horizon. Good change, mind you. Much, much needed change. And I'm anxious to get there. BUT...

...it seems like the steps I take to reach the horizon are two-forward-and-then-one-back. Change, it appears, will not be rushed. Just like this recent two-faced weather, I can't force "spring" to get here any sooner.
And so in my efforts to reCenter, I am trying to let change set its own pace. It is, at times, a frustrating endeavor. I'd prefer to push it along, already, especially when I'm teased with promises of warmer days. But I'm trying to take a cue from nature and remember that you can't rush out of winter's dormancy into summer overnight. The seeds of new things need time to grow slowly, or else they'll perish.

And the last thing I want is for my much-anticipated change to perish before it has a chance to bloom. So I guess I have no choice but to endure a little more teasing for a time.

A Reflective Walk

 

In the spirit of yesterday's recentering, I decided that today I would do something I haven't done in a very long time, which was to walk one of my favorite trails.

It was probably the best decision I've made all winter.  The air was so refreshing and the dark gray clouds of a cold front rolling in set an almost magical quality to the skyline.  My soul must have desperately needed the openness--the feel of chilled wind on my face--because I felt like I was drinking in freshness.

 

This feeling of freshness is a bit ironic considering the last time I was on this trail.  The truth is that I haven't walked here in almost exactly a year.  I remember the last time like it was yesterday.  I had just finished up an appointment with my doctor where she explained ever so plainly [I'm paraphrasing now] that my husband and I had better chances of winning the lottery than conceiving a child.  

It was news, you can imagine, that has profoundly impacted the last year of my life.  And it was news that was anything but fresh.

 

I mention this for a number of reasons.  One is that a lady is equal parts elusive and vulnerable.  And today I'm practicing the latter.  And two is that it is an important part of my story.

And that story is one of a long season of dormancy.  Like the grasses and trees from these photos taken on my walk, I have spent the past 2+ years resembling a barren prairie.  Oh yes...I know that this lovely blog has begun to show the pale pink of bloom, but it has taken many, many months to get here.

 

And really what you see now are just the early buds--a hopeful promise of what is to come.  Many of my dreams for this little online space are yet to blossom--still waiting for their figurative spring.

 

And also waiting for figurative spring is my family--my chance to be a mother as well as a wife and writer and creator of pretty things.  This endeavor I'm afraid I have less control over, but it is a piece of my heart nevertheless.  And it encourages me that one year later, on this very trail, I was able to feel freshness and openness instead of the crushing weight of sorrow that I felt when last I tread here.

So, I suppose my first 24 hours of "freshening up" for a new season have been fresh indeed.  So fresh, in fact, that I've made a decision to return to this trail as often as I can during the next several weeks.  Because I want to witness day-by-day what it is like to come out of dormancy.

And maybe I'll see it happen for me, too.

Mountain Morning

Every year sometime toward the end of September I have a little ritual. It involves me, a crisp autumn morning, my favorite mountain park, and my journal.

I come here to reflect over the year, and to think about the future.

Some years I have big decisions to make, and I seek this park for the peace and quiet it offers--a chance to get away from my computer and cell phone and just listen to my heart.

And listen to the rushing mountain river, too.

This year I didn't have decisions to make, per se, or even big goals to set for the future. Mainly I just sat in the sun and rested.

I thought about what I've journeyed through over the past 12 months or so, and where I'm headed.

And I'm not sure if it was the beauty of the scenery, or the fresh quality to the mountain air, but up in that canyon I had the wonderful sense of new beginnings, like a turning of the season. A clean slate. A clear morning.

Needless to say, it was a good way to start the day.

What introspective insights do you have this fall? Share your comments below, or email me at shillberry@stephaniehillberry.com.

After these Messages...

I'm not stalling because I don't have the new series completed yet.

Really.

I'm not.


That's Not the reason why I want you to view these lovely pictures, taken this weekend on a walk just outside my back door.


I want you to see how beautiful the countryside is.


And ponder the wonder of nature.


And perhaps occupy you until I post again later today...

So, in the meantime, please feel free to view more of these lovely shots from our nature walk by visiting me at Flickr (click here!).

And to read an introduction to the new series (Starting Today!), come back and visit me here. I promise I'll post it.

Just as soon as I figure it all out...

A Fond Farewell

The time for saying goodbye to Retro Summer '09 has come at last. It has been, if I don't mind saying, a fabulous three months of cooking and gardening and sewing and enjoying the outdoors.

Here are a few of the highlights:


Baking with seasonal fruits...


Enjoying the best of summer picnic foods, like ribs and corn...


And indulging in desserts of all shapes and sizes.


Of course there was growing and harvesting fresh food from the garden...



And visiting the local farm animals hanging out in the shade...


There were a lot of summer projects, from handmade jewelry...


To handknit cardigans...

And summer dresses...

There were lots of summer flowers to be picked...

and enjoyed.

And, finally, there was of course the beautiful outdoors to explore.

And plant in...

And make campfire memories with.

Of course, even though summer is coming to an end, there is a fresh excitement in the air for the arrival of fall (one of my most favorite seasons). And I'm sure that even though the days will get colder and the flowers will fade, I'll still be baking and sewing and enjoying nature--and posting all about it here.

Starting next Monday with a new series.

So let's bid summer a fond farewell, and welcome a new season with open arms!

Hope you enjoy a wonderful weekend and I'll see you on Monday!