Many weeks, not days, have passed since I last looked out the train window and carved out time to report on recent small things. The passage of time is concrete, yet mysterious. Reflections can feel both deep and fleeting. I’ve traveled a couple of thousand miles on land and many more in mind since whatever struck me important enough to share last time. But last week ,when I finally got back to the morning dog walk on the marsh, I realized and soaked in the power of green that has been missing from us all over these last months. Such change is worthy of note.
It seemed the greens were everywhere. Fiddlehead ferns uncurled and uncurling, the forest floor of “one leafers”, mere blades popping out of the brown mass of leaf litter, sprouting vines, budding shrubs, much of it seemed to appear right at eye height, a sea of green to tired eyes.
When I’d left Boston for a family wedding in Chicago now two weeks ago, , brown was the dominant color of eye and mind. I found the Windy City a month ahead of New England, with trees in full leaf and green all around. But then on my return, green here abounded, and the promise of Spring was in the, albeit still chilly, air.
Soon we will get a temperature warm up. I’ll think and write more about the power of the phone, the invisible Facebook network I watch my mother’s generation employ to stay in touch. Like so many others, this is the season for life in its fullness: graduations, awards, weddings, but also wrinkles of illnesses, unemployment and harder situations among those we know and many we don’t.
I hope the power of looking at green, seeing a heron on his post on the river, watching the buds become leaves, and smelling the lilacs will lift spirits. These things don’t fix all problems, but they can lighten the load. I hope.