Standing on the threshold
This time between seasons where it’s no longer winter, but it’s not quite spring — this in-between, a seasonless liminality. The mystery is ever-present, yet the forecast remains: 49 degrees, cloudy, 50% chance of rain.
This is the part that, for me, is so effortless yet so challenging. In between seasons, I am ready for the next thing, but a part of me is still wintering. My heart aches, but there is no particular reason for the ache — it’s just what naturally comes next in this part of the cycle. Like the end of my menstrual cycle, I’m on the upswing. I see the light in the sky, and yet it rains, and patiently I wait.
The blooms are sprouting, showing their faces above the dirt but not quite flowering. This is how I feel — ready to show my face but not quite ready to emerge.