243 The First Frog

Our little spring sprouts are pensively peaking out above the surface, checking, deciding if the groundhog will keep us low and slow.

Predawn. He is out there, calling for a mate. The first frog.

He is quite literally the first, because I have never heard a frog on this property. This little guy may be croaking for a couple of months before he finds that “perfect someone”. Is it springtime? The calendar reads January.

green frog
The first frog Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I have been pulling weeds, so many weeds. In the last few years, January bodes as “crunch month”. The bulbs rise above the surface and the young poppies crack the soil in light chartreuse. The race begins.

When we wrap up the fall garden, it is NOT ready for spring. This year I left most of the fucias alone, leafing and blooming. There is still a bloomer in the backyard. The hummingbirds use them as food. The winter never conclusively stated, “I am here”. The plants have been indecisive.

We have been indecisive. We are all pulling weeds, looking at the world, our lives, and making decisions about what stays and what goes. The process of 2020 was not a one year purge. The ’20s, the roaring ’20s are shifting us.

Our little spring sprouts are pensively peaking out above the surface, checking, deciding if the groundhog will keep us low and slow.

bunch of bright blooming flowers
A beautiful glass vase of tulip bulbsPhoto by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com

Jan gifted me a beautiful glass vase of tulip bulbs. They are indoors. Inches of height have emerged each day. The rush to bloom.

No rush. We are more like the outdoor plants. A cold snap could take us down.

Spend time on your roots. Continue to look. To ponder. To weed. Real growth, growth that changes our lives, changes the world, takes time.

Author: Michele Plumb Stowell

Michele Stowell was a teacher, a hand holder, and encouraging voice. Born an early Gen Xer, she has lived in Western Washington for the duration. Her children, two spectacular genetic daughters and an uncountable number of marvelous scout and school sons and daughters, shine as her biggest impact and her greatest blessing. Just before her 54th birthday, Michele was diagnosed with stage four cancer. Her writing and art work are expressions of the drama and the joy of living earth bound. On October 24, 2021, Michele was released from her physical body, transported to continue her work on other realms.

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