The cheery yellows of daffodils and forsythia bushes of March never fail to brighten up the Ohio Valley and lighten my mood. Even though it hasn't been a bad winter, these two harbingers of Spring reassure me the days are getting longer, the grass is getting greener, and soon more pops of color will dot the landscape. Next up are tulips and flowering trees - magnolia, pear, lilac, redbud. Then creeping phlox crops up, and the blazing azaleas burst forth, followed by the massive blooms of the rhododendrun. Each display dazzles my eyes as if I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life, when in truth, it's the same every Spring.
That's the beauty of the changing seasons. When I lived in Florida, I knew I missed my northern seasons, but I didn't understand why it was so important to me. Now I know: Witnessing that rebirth and renewal every year gives me hope, a tangible example from the Universe that cold, gray, dreary days don't last forever, that no matter how wicked - or monotonous - the weather, a change is just a few moon cycles away. If flowers are always in bloom, their beauty, striking as it might be, doesn't provide the same thrill.
We can use the changing seasons to teach our kids resiliency, that change is constant and necessary, the good days balance out the bad, and no matter what, the trumpet-like daffodils will poke out of the cold ground next year to herald Spring.