Finally, sun

The snow is melting as the sun rises this morning, falling like rain past the window from trees, roofs, bushes and leaves. The bitter cold that has gripped us this week past is loosening its hold. Forsythia blooming next door beneath my sun room windows is still as bright and yellow as it was when snow and ice locked them away under a white sky. The twigs and branches, leaves and buds glisten with jewel bright colors in the warming light and I remember what my grandmother used to say. "When the forsythia blooms and it snows three more times, it's spring." I think it's finally spring.

I am amazed at the resilience of nature and how, despite arctic temperatures and the sun locked behind a dense pallid sky, the buds and leaves come back stronger and brighter and more beautiful than ever. Some will die, but there will be new buds to take their places. Hopefully, it will be the same for me.

My dreams have been locked in the ice of work and worry and a lack of sleep, my body taking me into a dreamless realm where nothing and no one can reach me so I can rest and heal. My body doesn't need healing (well, not much), but my soul does, having been battered and tossed on stormy arctic seas these past weeks and months. My spring is coming; I can feel the sap rising. Dreams will follow, those that come to me and those I reach out and create, and they will be more welcome for their absence.

Like the green shoots and tender buds, I need the sun, that warm, bright golden ball high in a deep blue Colorado sky, smiling down and warming my heart and soul.