Written by: Jennifer Williams
@jenwillwrite | jennifernwilliams.com
By the laws of nature, spring is the transition between cold, dark winter months and summer. In spring, the birds return after migration. The flowers bloom, adding more color to the land. And the trees show us their love through leaves that provide shade for the brightest of days.
As a young child, spring meant warmer air, my birthday, and spending the upcoming months at my late grandparents' house. I remember being seven years old when I first noticed the joy of spring. After a long winter, the sun reflected off the red-brick houses lining the street where they lived. The sun was brighter as the gray clouds finally floated away, revealing blue skies and airplanes. I can still smell the freshly cut grass in the wind, as the scent blew by in the air that was a few degrees warmer than the previous day. You could feel the season getting closer as more people stood outside and lawn mowers roared. My grandmother would come home with hanging flower pots and several flats for her gardens, which she’d picked out at her favorite market. That’s how I knew spring was coming.
As the season brought in rain, the tree in front of her house would grow large green maple leaves, protecting part of the porch from the hot sun and giving me a place to rest after playing with my Skip-It toy. My grandmother planted flowers after each of her grandchildren’s birth, and they would begin to bloom again. My flower was a yellow rose bush.
Decades later, without my grandmother and her flowers, I now have to intentionally look for signs of spring. Between work, parenting, and the ups and downs of everyday life, I know it’s been some time since I have fully experienced all that the season has to offer. I remember on my son’s last day of first grade, I pulled into our driveway with heavy feelings from not having enough planned for the summer. I looked into the rearview mirror and noticed the trees lining the nearby pond had already bloomed. I let out a deep sigh and asked myself, how did I miss spring?
What was meant to be a few months of renewal and new beginnings was now focused on screens, attending meetings, recalibrating my personal life, and scheduling my son’s summer. He expressed to me how exhausted he felt from past summer camps and now he wanted to play video games or use the iPad while I worked. At that moment, I saw my life reduced to meetings, summer camp registration, and screens. It was a heavy realization that this was not how I envisioned my life or his childhood. We both needed to get outside. Less screen time. Less circling back. Less plans.
To keep my promise to spend more time outdoors, I took my son to a nearby nature park. Within five minutes of walking, four butterflies flew by us. We stood in the same spot for a few minutes watching them hop from one flower to the next. I asked my son what differences he saw on their wings. That one is black with blue spots! That one has a lot of colors, but mostly orange. Blue spots just landed on the ground! As we explored a little further into the park, we spotted a few swans, small turtles, a busy bird’s nest, lily pads, and a great blue heron staring off in the distance. Seeing his eyes light up in awe confirmed that this was exactly what we needed. No screen could replace the beauty of watching nature naturally transition to bring life back to the land.
And with each new day I’m granted to live on Earth, these are the moments I do not want to miss.
Now, a second grader, he recently shared how excited he was for spring so he could go outside and play without a coat. I giggled to myself because now he gets to experience the slowness of the days without being glued to a screen. To be honest, he still plays video games and we love movie night. However, it’s a nice-to-have instead of an obsession or an escape. This year, I’m looking forward to spending hours at our favorite park, playing hide and seek behind the trees, bike riding, and watching the sunset reflect off the lake.
While nature has its seasons, so do our lives. Spring is a reminder that there is always light after darkness. There is always another chance to revive what may seem lifeless or lost. My grandmother taught me that as she spent each spring bringing her multiple gardens back to life. While I don’t have a large physical garden of my own just yet, I have a potted mini pink-and yellow rose bush that I will bring back to life. And this time, my son will watch it bloom.
Jen Williams is a writer grounded in reflective storytelling, drawing inspiration from everyday moments. She is currently writing her first novel.
