Every year about this time, the clocks jump forward, causing us all to groan. The time to save daylight arrived, so with clocks readjusted Saturday night, we were prepared to pretend nothing changed. The next morning, we shuffled through the day half-awake, coffee cups clutched like lifelines, wondering why our bodies felt slightly betrayed. The truth is, our bodies know better.
Just yesterday, most of the congregation came to church on time. However, there’s always one in any group. In this case, it was the sweetest little family of four +1 who came in just as the Pastor was finishing his lovely Sermon based on a continuing study of the book of Hebrews. Their littles looked like the rest of us felt, having been scooped up from their beds only to find out they were already an hour late.
Of course, the sun still rises normally, as the birds begin their morning chatter at the same moment they always have. Waking the dogs, they enjoyed the great fortune of having breakfast an hour early. Only humans look at the clock and say, “No, no… It’s different now.”
At Winterpast, the garden seems unimpressed by our attempt to rearrange time.
The bulbs that slept quietly beneath the soil all winter are swelling with blooms. The dining room table has been transformed into a small nursery of Jiffy trays, where little discs of soil puffed up with water now cradle seedlings. Planted only two weeks ago, they have already begun their quiet work. They sure didn’t check a calendar, nor did they adjust tiny little clocks. They simply know it’s time to begin.
Spring has a way of doing that, arriving whether we’re ready or not. As the earth warms and the days stretch a little longer, the fruit trees are blooming. Each tree is buzzing as local bees have returned to Winterpast. Even the gardeners, a bit stiff from winter and perhaps a little groggy from the time change, answer that familiar tug to step outside and start again.
After sweeping the patio and bringing out the cushions, HHH and I discussed the big projects for the year. More decomposed granite (DG) for the paths, paint for the bridges and stepping stones, and more rock. Always more rock.
These beginnings don’t arrive with trumpets or grand announcements. They arrive quietly, like a green shoot pushing through the soil. Perhaps that’s what this strange little ritual of moving the clocks forward is really about. It’s just a simple reminder that another season begins, as we meet a new year in the garden.
And here at Winterpast, with seedlings on the dining room table and bulbs stretching toward the spring sun, it feels very much like something new is starting!
