Late Winter

We think about taking the dogs for a walk in the sunshine after lunch but the wind kicks up again. Instead, we leave the pups at home and go for a drive.

We stop by the community garden for the first time this year and see nothing reaching through the straw covered area where we planted garlic last fall, but spy a row of tender green (spinach, I suspect) in another gardener’s plot. The dichotomy between the wilderness of these past months and the new growth is stark.

Later we sit in the car in the sunshine in the park and talk about nothing much at all but just enjoy the time we carved out to be together. Funny, because we’re together a LOT these days, but there’s something different about sitting in a park in the afternoon with no distractions.

In past years, by this time, I’d be in garden dreaming and planning mode. Spring fever would be tiptoeing on the edges of my winter-weary mind. Not so this year.

Maybe it’s enough just to lean in to the ordinariness of every day. Maybe spring, the season of new growth and rebirth, will work her magic in due time but, for now, there are still things to work out in the desert. Maybe there’s still wisdom to be mined in this winter.

Who knows?


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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