Stephen here: Yesterday I saw a flock of birds heading north. Their season has ended; their sojourn in the South is over and it is time, they know, to return to spring and fall in to the re-burgeoning of life again.
With it spring births the younglings, the startlings of another year. Another winter survived and another year to thrive. Two of the Critters’ sheep and that goat, Curlie Sue, are growing to bring new life unto this land. It feels archetypal, or metaphorical, or something that I’ve heard in stories and fables and movies throughout my life: the sounds of first life; the big bang; a baby’s first cry; and that first crackling in the ice as the sun comes up. When roofs melt and water rushes down the gutters, I feel the rivers surging with life.
The weather is many things and perhaps that is why we always talk about it in this column. And in those many things we are so affected here. The weather is both the cause and the marker of change. It is the grandfather-grandmother clock that beats the irregular rhythm of our stirrings, and it is the direct cause for so many of our strivings.
We watch the weather warm and go outside to do some chores; we chop some wood so that we can stay warm by the fire. And just yesterday, in this warm weather, I looked at my wood pile and felt a release. I was once coveting and questioning what I had; and now I make fires with more, but far from total, liberty.
We have survived winter. It isn’t over, cold days will still come—maybe even the extremely cold—but the warm days are here. We have had one week of it so far, and I now write at the very beginning stretch of what might get into the 60s. Spring is coming. The clock, literally, is shifting forward (don’t forget!).
There will never be another winter like this. With that particular little family of animals. There will never be another winter that I will be in this house, struggling and thriving in these particular ways. There will never be that half sized donkey huddled up with those three dark sheep and that white straggling straight hair that is gonna get culled soon. Those goats and those chickens and that little girl who is four and for whom the future is wide open. For she, I am really discovering, is extremely lucky to be growing up in this place at this time. I think and hope… and so for us too…
Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage is an intentional community and nonprofit outside Rutledge, in northeast Missouri, focused on demonstrating sustainable living possibilities. While we dream of spring, when tours will begin again, you can find out more about us by visiting our website, reading our blog, or emailing us.