Turning the Corner II

In the spirit of my previous post, I've spent much of this week appreciating the interplay between winter's lingering grasp and spring's subtle encroachments. A few days of strong sunshine melted most of last week's 22 new inches of snow, and made temperatures in the upper 40s feel quite mild. On the other hand, clear nights dotted by brilliant stars piercing chilly air alluded to mid-January more than mid-March. Students returning from spring break travels responded variously, depending on where they had spent the previous week. Those who skied in northern New England and Canada welcomed the warmth; those who volunteered or vacationed in southern locales seemed slightly bitter (why discard the pun?) over a return to the reality of Worcester's climate. I stayed here, and found particular insight into the ongoing seasonal tension in daily observations of the campus greenhouse.

It all came together this morning: a brilliant pre-dawn sky, utter calm, temperatures in the mid-teens, and a room full of flowers. Transparency to warming light nourished growth, but the clear glass also suggested a certain vulnerability. One crack, one loose joint between pane and frame, and frigid air could steal inside, hijack the fan-stirred air currents, and breathe invisible doom on blooms eager for truly fresh air and genuinely earthy anchoring. Menacing tendrils of frost and sliding drops of condensation seemed quite intent on a two-front sortie against the vibrant plants in plain sight.

As I shivered slightly against the cold, yet felt certain warmth in the beauty of the morning, I took a lesson from the greenhouse. There's a danger in seeking protection from threats that results in an opacity around the soul. On the other hand, there's paradoxical strength in a faith that's transparent, trusting in the invisible and immaterial to keep us open to daily blessings and graces, and safe from the more harmful possibilities that are inherent in the situations we encounter. And while signs of things to come may seem like the spoiling of a surprise, there's great joy to anticipate in knowing that what's growing within will soon be moved and planted outside, where it will be even more fruitful for, and rooted in, this wonderful and changing world.