Hard Ground in Late March

Winter's hold is present in my world this morning. The earth outside my door has not yet been induced to soften and yield. It yet maintains a frigid state, awaiting the long hours of spring sunshine which will bring warmth, releasing it at last from the grasp of winter cold.

The gardeners are longing to get started, but it is not yet time. The hardness of frozen earth is not workable; it cannot be readily penetrated. One cannot plow, one cannot overturn rich soil for the planting of seed which will one day bring a harvest.

But the gardeners have hope. Spring will come.

The rays of the springtime sun, less distant than the winter sun, warm the earth; the length of spring days increases. Soft, nourishing rains return, washing away the frozen, white blanket. Slowly, the hardened crust gives way to tenderness.

The warm rains penetrate and rejuvenate the rich soil, awakening hidden roots and tubers which have laid dormant throughout the winter season. Renewed life breaks through what was once hardened soil. All the earth shouts for joy!

An environment of growth is created, making the earth ready to receive new seed from the gardener's hand. The plow is set, the soil is turned, and good seed is sown.

Seasons come to an end. This much we know. For those of us waiting for the return of spring here in the North Country, we understand that. We also understand that we cannot induce its return, we cannot pinpoint the day of its arrival. We can only look for signs, wait patiently and joyfully (lest we squander the day at hand), and plan for its arrival in absolute certainty that it will come.

And come it will. The soft, warm rains and the springtime sun will come. And life will flourish once more.