Ever since potting up trays of seeds three weeks ago, I've been anticipating spring. The seedlings aren't big enough to be planted outside but I can't help but want time to move faster. But spring plantings aren't things you can rush, or a frost will easily kill off your vegetable dreams.
As I anticipate starting work again after a long sabbatical, this is a helpful metaphor. Part of me wants to jump in with excitement. But a deep part of me knows to allow the waiting to occur slowly and in it's own time. (Actually, it's in the timing of Immigration New Zealand.)
What does waiting for the spring look like - what will I mourn and what will I anticipate? What can I do to mark the end of one season and the start of another? How can I rest well in the waiting?