Springtime

Spring has sprung, and it's a beautiful day in northern Colorado. We are currently on a roll of warmer but windy temperatures and are due for a bit of snow over the next several days too. I look forward to this time of year with anticipation because it means that soon I won't have to bring or wear an overcoat, trees, grass, and other foliage will soon be turning varying shades of green once again, and the never-ending dryness that abounds comes to an end. Our poor tulips started coming up a few weeks ago, and I'm always amazed at how they are able to survive the snow that is still to come and will continue to push their way to full height as spring marches on. I love this time of year because I know the parts of winter that I don't much enjoy will soon come to a close. The weather isn't quite hot yet, but I also rarely need to wear multiple glove layers or trudge around in snow boots. I feel life springing back to what feels more normal to me personally.

The tulips are coming - ready or not!

When I think of spring, I picture several months of mild temperatures, but I know that is far from what takes place for this region. In reality, we will continue to whip back and forth between mid-60 degree days and snowy, 30 degree days. These are just the facts when it comes to living in this area. I have slowly grown to accept this and my idea of spring has somewhat changed because of it. Instead of waiting for the snow to end, I have learned to appreciate days like today that fall in between the colder days. I understand now that this is spring in Colorado. Suddenly one day, and seemingly without warning, it will simply be hot and I will wonder what happened to the mild spring I had anticipated. I will ponder how we could have only had a couple of weeks of mild weather and then find myself in the depths of summer heat, forgetting that we experienced many beautiful, sunny days throughout March, April and May.

One of my favorite views from our yard in the spring.

I am particularly grateful for this spring in Colorado. Never has this place felt more like home to me, and never have I been more unsure of what is going to take place over the coming weeks and months. When Sam left for California a couple of weeks ago, I was prepared to say goodbye, but finding it difficult to come to terms with the reality of moving from this area and leaving our home. The job that seemed so right, so perfect, and so full of possibilities took a quick turn, and Sam realized just how different what he was told and what he was doing (and going to be doing) would be. Listening to his senses, his instincts, and acknowledging what was taking place physically in front of him, Sam elected to let the opportunity in California go, and return to Colorado. Which means that what we thought was going to take place in regard to moving is not happening, and we will be staying in the area.

Last spring, we planted many berries and vegetables in whiskey barrels. This spring, these may see a different use by their new owner.

A new conundrum had developed, however. With Sam's return to the state, our home has been under contract and is set to close at the end of the month. As the seller, there is currently no opportunity for us to be released from the contract with the buyer, and unless they opt to back out of the contract, or the house doesn't appraise, the sale will move forward. It has left us with unwanted/unneeded stress and unsurety. While there are extremely few homes available here at the moment (which creates its own issues), we are unable to proceed with anything because of the possibility of the buyer backing out.

Already seeing signs of spring in the grass turning green again

And, so, we wait. We wait and we pack. We play out scenarios of getting to stay in our home. We attempt to decipher what lessons are to be learned in all of this. But, in all of it, we understand that we have zero control over the present situation. Decisions were made, and now the consequences have to be dealt with as we move forward.

I sit frequently in our living room as I type posts and do other work. We are fortunate to have windows surrounding this spot of our home. I get to look out at the trees as they change through the seasons, the birds as they chirp and hunt for food, the squirrels as they bounce across branches and telephone wires, people walking their dogs or riding their bikes - I see all of these things and I become (probably more than I should be) emotional realizing that this spot of quiet, this place of reflection may not (and likely will not) be part of our lives in the very near future. I think about the garden just started last spring and how the whiskey barrel garden experiment was so short lived. Of course, we can attempt these same things in a new spot, but it was somehow easier to say goodbye to this space when moving to a completely new area.  Realizing that we will be in the same city, and not living in our home is far more painful.

There is nothing to feel sorry for ourselves about in all of this, nor do I expect (or want) others to have pity for us. As I said, decisions were made and we proceeded with what seemed the best option for our future. Wallowing in those choices now does nothing to move us forward. We wanted change and a bit of a shake up, and perhaps that is exactly what we are in for - though just not in the part of the country we anticipated. I have so much to be grateful for, including our time in this home, in this space. Spring is a time of renewal, of change, of beauty, and much like the season itself here in Colorado, we are in for some varying conditions over the coming weeks. I hope that I can look at these changes through the same glasses as I am able to view the spring season this year. I want to welcome the change and be inspired by all of it, knowing that this isn't necessarily a negative or a positive, but simply part of life and choices made.