Spring lets the soul soar and gladdens the heart

The virus is now a pandemic, the stock market has tanked, schools are closing and were all supposed to be practicing extremely good hand-washing routines and social distancing. It’s a scary new world we’ve entered: uncharted territory — terra incognito. It’s doubly concerning if you’re over a certain age and tend to be a bit paranoid about your health as well as germaphobic in normal times. Yes, everything seems more than slightly surreal. I’m fighting off this fearful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why this? I’ve just lost my mother, I’m grieving and now a pandemic.

But you know there’s something going on that gives me great hope and a feeling of calm. It’s Spring and it couldn’t possibly be more beautiful here. For the past two weeks the azaleas in the parks and gardens, and all over our city, have been gracing us with their spectacular displays of color — white, pink, lavender, deep reds. It’s like entering a magical land where the sun always shines upon the earth, and the warmth and renewal of a new season make the soul joyful, fleetingly but gloriously. I soak it up, I revel in it, I thank God for this great gift, this miracle of Spring. I’ve been to all our famous gardens, and the large city park near me with its huge oaks just leafing out and its gardens brimming with roses, camellias and many other flowers.

As I came up close to some of the azaleas in the park to photograph them the other day, I gently touched a very delicate petal and was astonished anew at how utterly soft, beautiful and fragile it was. They are slightly opaque, so when backlit by the sun you can see up-close hundreds of tiny little crystal orbs of light as sunlight passes through. I’ve always considered this one of Nature’s miraculous little displays, sadly mostly overlooked, but there are many of them, especially in Spring. Spring, a time for hope and rebirth, a time for setting aside the troubles and anxieties of this wounded and threatened earthly existence.

I found a poem by one of my favorite poets, William Wordsworth, and I’m posting it here. It’s a poem of gratitude for Nature and all its blessings, but a cautionary poem also, with a message that easily applies to what we’re going through today.

 

Lines Written in Early Spring

By William Wordsworth

 

I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sat reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man.

 

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And ’tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:

But the least motion which they made

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

 

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,

If such be Nature’s holy plan, Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?