My oldest daughter is a Virgo. She is task oriented. She can't relax until everything is in its place. She finishes her lists. It is a wonder that she was born to me. She teaches school, is a single parent, and has a big house. She also has the challenge of living in rainy Portland, Oregon.
The other week she was feeling overwhelmed and getting what we used to call "The Febuaries." I was sad for her because she doesn't have the time to get to some warm sunny island in the sun. (The best cure for "cabin fever.") She called me that night and sounded great. I asked her what she had done to cheer up. It seems that she had given herself permission to just walk out of the house and take a walk. She does this all the time, but on this walk she had gone slowly, not worried about getting in the usual amount of exercise. She had stopped and looked at all the nature she often walks by. She had noticed that there were buds on many of the plants. Then she started thinking about the buds and looking more deeply at them.
This simple act of slowing down and smelling the roses, so to speak, gave her a new lease on life. She is a terrific gardener, but this whole experience was different. The act of talking time out, of forgetting her agenda seems to have allowed the plants to heal her, to give her their new spring energy, kind of a sneak preview.
Towards the end of February in New England, the sap starts to run. The Maple trees, often old giants, start to come out of the deep freeze and get their juices flowing. The branches on the Weeping Willow get a pink glow as their sap flows. I always found the work of gathering sap and making syrup one of the most hopeful activities of the year. Spring would triumph over winter! And no drink on earth ever tasted so good to me as the first sap we brought home the first day of the season.
In the olden days, right up through my childhood, people ate certain wild plants and drank certain teas to get their blood flowing after winter. My grandmother had us eat the first dandelion greens after winter. There are many old cures to get the blood freshened and the human sap rising. Here in the tropics, I haven't found the equivalent, but I must say that the coming of the avocado, lime and mango season feels pretty good.
But I am very grateful to my daughter for telling me her story. I have since taken time from my busy days (joke) to give nature a chance to give back to me. I saw my good luck yellow butterfly as soon as I started seeing. I saw many hummingbirds in the banana trees that I usually just walk past. I felt the richness of the earth. I felt better. I don't always need a book in my face to be alive. I need to hang out in the life that is going on around me.
This is definitely a tree hugger moment. I have had true inspirations with my arms hugging mighty oaks or tall white pines. They are so generous, they will share with us their strength. But, so it seems, will the smallest bud.
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