Cherry blossoms in the time of Coronavirus

Spring is here! Or at least was here briefly for the last few days. Today it’s raining where I live, and a few snowflakes sneak in from time to time. It’s also the first full day of my state’s stay-at-home order.

I wanted to be sure to notice spring happening around me over the past week, to not let the stress and anxiety of such uncertainty take over completely and cause me to miss what I can still enjoy. So I’ve been trying to get out a bit more with my camera.

There’s a beautiful cherry tree in full bloom at a park near my house, and it’s loveliness stopped me mid-dog-walk Sunday morning.

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I never noticed the star in the center of each cherry blossom before.

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Spring’s reawakening always feels miraculous to me, even though I know it will come each year. It’s a lovely reminder of God’s live-giving breath, too. Creation comes back to life, perhaps a necessary reminder for us to hold onto in the time of Coronavirus.

I want to encourage you to notice spring where you are, too. (If you live in the southern hemisphere, notice autumn and its own beauty coming?) Whether it’s from your window, or you’re able to walk outside, what spring gifts can you find?

Stuck in the middle?

Early March means spring is just around the corner. Right? Where you live, maybe spring is already emerging. My mom tells me her tulip magnolia has already bloomed.

I visited Atlanta last weekend and saw a few early signs of spring, including this star magnolia:

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A star magnolia blooms in Atlanta’s Centennial Olympic Park (taken with my cell phone).

But where I live, spring feels a long way off. We had snow last night, and when I left the house this morning, it was 27° and windy.

Gardeners around here recommend waiting until Memorial Day weekend to plant outdoors. So you might understand why I’m feeling stuck in the middle of winter. I know we’ll have some lovely days between now and Memorial Day weekend, but true spring feels a long way off.

Maybe you’re feeling stuck in the middle of something right now, too?

As my dog and I passed this No Parking sign this morning, a thought struck me. Whatever middle we feel stuck in—whether it’s the seasons, an illness (our own or a loved one’s), an election cycle, a difficult project at work, or fears of a pandemic—let’s remember not to park right here in the middle.

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After all, if there’s a middle, there’s an end, too. So let’s keep moving. And may each moment find us feeling a little less stuck.

What are some ways you look for light and hope when you’re stuck in the middle? What keeps you moving? I’d love for you to share your ideas below.

Beating the summer heat

The unofficial start of summer kicks off with Memorial Day weekend, but where I live, we’ve already seen triple temperatures. Bleh. This no longer counts as springtime to me. Some of my friends love the hot weather. I do not. Though I was raised in a place of heat and humidity, summer is not my favorite season. It’s not even my second-favorite season. Life in California—with its cloudless days, searing heat, lack of shade, and rattlesnakes—has bumped summer down to my least favorite season.

As a runner, I find myself getting up earlier and earlier to dodge the baking sun and rising temps each morning. Yesterday, desperate to avoid a repeat of Monday’s too-hot, too-late-in-the-morning run, I found a handy tool that tells you when the sun will rise and set where you live. (Just for fun, I’ve set it to show times for Daphne, Alabama. You can type in your own city/town and see how it changes for today. Drag the daily line along to see how it will lengthen until June 21 and then begin to shorten. Type in a place south of the equator, and you’ll see the opposite effect.)

I’m not the only one trying to find ways to beat the heat. Western screech-owls have returned to nest in the box on our house, and a couple of evenings ago, I looked outside to see this:

A thirsty owl

An owl sat perched in the waterfall of our backyard koi pond. I didn’t want to scare it away, especially because the fish didn’t seem concerned about its presence. I grabbed the camera and took some shots from inside the house.

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The Easter legend of the dogwood

My mom and I were discussing dogwoods recently. They’re the state flower for North Carolina and the state tree/memorial tree/floral emblem for several other states (Missouri, New Jersey, Virginia).

We’re fortunate to have two pink dogwoods growing in our yard, and they’re in bloom right now, just in time for Easter.

Have you heard the Easter legend of the dogwood? I thought I’d share the version I’ve always heard with you today, this Wednesday of Holy Week. Perhaps you’ve heard a different version? Or never heard the legend at all? It goes a little something like this … Continue reading

Between rain showers

I don’t know about you, but I always struggle the first few weeks after we “spring forward” into Daylight Saving Time. A few days ago, I managed to get out of bed at an earlier-than-usual hour, though it took until the sun was up for me to make it out of the house with the dog. In between bursts of rain on our quiet walk, I snapped this picture with my phone. The view and its accompanying quiet felt like a gentle hello from God.

I love this photograph for so many reasons: the play of early morning sun and gray clouds; the exuberance of green grass growing where I rarely see it; the meandering path along the flat trail (it plunges down just past the distant tree line); the stately oak leafing out to welcome spring.

The trees in this picture have survived not just one year of drought but years of it. Yet look at them. Look at those green leaves. Continue reading