Blessings: For This Beginning

My neighbor’s hyacinths, emerging.

April 30, 2025

There’s something about April in Vermont ~ or maybe it’s about early Spring anywhere. The air is still cold, but the shoots dare to emerge. And then the buds: on trees and in soil, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. You know what I mean … those two or three days when, if you stand still for fifteen minutes, you’ll practically be able to hear the trees leafing out. We’re in stick season right up until the magical moment when suddenly, we just plain aren’t anymore, and ~ poof ~ LEAVES! Nature’s first green, as Frost said. Honestly, it’s pretty breathtaking.

That’s what was going on when I took this picture of my neighbor’s nascent hyacinths. By the next day, the buds had popped open and the fragrance was intoxicating, but on this day, they were clasping their loveliness close, as if waiting for the right moment.

FOR THIS BEGINNING

For long, wintry months, you’ve been waiting –

in the dark, cold soil of your hibernation,

knowing that you’re not quite ready —

the time is not quite ripe —

but trusting the cyclic nature of reality.

And now, there’s a warming,

subtle at first, but undeniable,

and the instinct towards growth cannot be denied.

May the soil you’re planted in be richly nourishing.

May the sun warm you until you’re ready.

And then, may you emerge into delight,

yours and others’,

fully alive, and fully beautiful.

Amen.