Spring arrived bearing snow this year. While I listened to forecasts that couldn’t pinpoint just how much snow to expect, I found myself crossing my fingers and fervently sending out messages to the universe to please, please spare us any real damage. Methinks I was heard. The crocuses, hellebores, snowdrops and scillas had been blooming for a week or so already but, the daffodils had just begun to unfold their sunny petals and I was concerned that they would be crushed. Thankfully, the flowers were spared. For a brief period the snow made everything white and pretty but in no time at all it had all melted away. Spring was once again underway.

But it got me thinking about how we approach life. So much time is spent in anticipating and planning that we don’t pause long enough to simply be. All winter long we look forward to the return of life in the garden. And then, when it starts to bloom, we get caught up in the chores and to-dos to get ready for summer. There ought to be a time we allow ourselves to be completely present in the garden. To notice the details, appreciate the beauty, get to know intimately the plants we nurture. How else could we learn to value what we have?

The same could be said of how we miss out on time with our children and other loved ones. We are so focused on doing what we think they need, that we fail to spend time with them doing nothing in particular. It is in that last ‘activity’ that we are given the opportunity to truly acquaint ourselves with our own. How often we have surprised ourselves by having a proper conversation when ‘trapped’ in a car! Or when sitting down all together for a meal where no electronic devices are permitted.

Young children are good at doing nothing and still observe and learn about their surroundings. While it might appear that they are unoccupied, they are in truth filling up on information about their world. They are living life. We could do well by giving ourselves such a break in our over-scheduled days.

Because there was so much confusion about how much snow we might get, I was afraid all might be lost with the early bulbs. So I decided to go out and take photos of whatever was in bloom. Once I started photographing, I realized how much I neglect to notice at this time of year. The yellow crocuses bloom before the others. The wood hyacinths start two weeks after the crocuses – I’m usually so occupied with my spring chores that I notice these timid bulbs only when they are in full form. Yet, their slow progress is in itself a gentle reminder to savor every moment. The muscari are close to follow and their tight buds resemble diminutive, deep mauve wands. Soon they will reveal their lighter hued tiny bells. At this time, the roses are putting out new leaves – shiny and bronze. The hellebores have peaked and some are even bold enough to tilt their faces upwards. Their pastel colored flowers contrast strikingly with the rich jewel tones of the crocus. The pale yellow petals of the early daffodils glow softly in the sunlight. And I wonder how I might capture that luminescence in watercolor. So ethereal.

All the while, all manner of birds are making sorties to determine where they might set up their nests. I watch a pair of cardinals foraging in the meadow as though ensuring the food supply they will need once they have babies to feed. Their nest is clearly going to be amidst the brambly limbs of the Paul’s Himalayan rose that covers the very old apple tree in the meadow. This is a favorite amongst other birds as well. It seems the blue jays have elected higher quarters. I see them perched on the sugar maple.

Finally, I come back indoors to attend to other matters. The clock says I was away for a whole hour and that comes as a real surprise. I’d been so immersed in the goings on of the garden, that I’d shed all other thoughts from my mind. No wonder I felt so relaxed and high in spirit. I had taken a wonderful, life affirming break.

As I write this post, news of the terror attack in Belgium is flooding the airwaves. Another reminder that life is ephemeral. Here today, gone tomorrow. So this week, I’m taking an honest spring break. I’m going to enjoy this season of rebirth and renewal. The chores, and there are so many, will wait. I want to remember my todays.

Before I let you get to some lovely spring images below, here are some announcements:

Correction! My garden’s Open Day is now May 7. 10:00 am to 4:00 pm.

This week, I have art work on exhibit at the Phyllis Merriman Gallery in NYC. Do take a look if you can!

I have posted my most recent visit with the HIV children of Mukta Jeevan. I know you will be interested in reading on their progress. Click Girls Just Want To Have Fun!

(c) 2016 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Once again, it’s that time of year when the buzz is all about new year resolutions. Humanity’s eternal quest to be given a new chance at becoming and doing better. Find a new job/ lose weight/ train for a marathon/ join a book club/ save more money/ go organic – there is a never ending list of commitments. Sound familiar? The very essence of being human is that we are imperfect and must therefore keep trying to overcome our shortcomings yet knowing all the while that perfection is unattainable. As I’ve said before, I’m not one for specific resolutions. Typically, I just strive to try harder in general. That is a full time job in itself.

Considering that these personal reformations are life-long endeavors, I’m not going to even reiterate them to myself. They just are. Like shadows that faithfully follow even when we don’t notice. Instead, I’m giving myself a one word cue to apply to everything. The word is, drum roll please – CELEBRATE.

We know to duly acknowledge the big events. Birthdays, anniversaries, graduations and such. But the reality is that the days and happenings we look upon as routine or mundane are fraught with reasons to celebrate. We’ve come to take so much for granted that we fail to recognize the wonder and miracles that honor our lives every single day. I felt this lack in me this year – for, while I was mostly preoccupied with big happenings and doing a fair amount of travel, I completely missed the numerous simple yet special moments that occur all the time no matter what else is going on.

In spring I got so immersed in getting ready for a solo art show, house guests, garden open day and my daughter’s high school graduation, that I failed to fully appreciate the myriad incredible moments in the garden. This was a particularly good spring. Yet, I spent so little time celebrating it. Oh, I certainly hosted a couple of garden parties, took a decent number of photographs of the horticultural splendor and airily pointed them out to anybody within earshot, but I didn’t truly give anything their just due. Every plant fulfilling its role in the garden deserves congratulations and thanks. A proper pause to admire and bask in their beauty is worth the effort. It is a moment to get outside of myself and focus on these treasures. The deep sense of well-being and enrichment I get from doing so is priceless.

The timely opening of the different flowers, the fragrance of hyacinths signaling the commencement of spring, the arrival of bees as the apple blossoms peak, wrens resettling themselves in the bluebird box, the early morning cacophony of avians tuning up for chorus, the cicadas repeating their song all summer long, the flashes of red as cardinals flit in and out of the rose covered apple tree, fireflies punctuating the sultry nights of summer, the drama of a good rain shower and the refreshed state of the garden following it, the turn of color as fall picks up speed, the quietness of a blizzard, the brilliance of light just before the sun begins to set. So many daily acts of grace that go uncelebrated. So many opportunities to feel good gone untaken.

Similarly, awakening the senses to the smell of coffee first thing in the morning, the sleepy greeting of a loved one emerging from the embrace of a cozy bed, the porch light twinkling its welcome at the end of a long day away, the unexpected note from a friend simply saying hello, the completion of a project be it big or small, the discovery of a $ 5.00 note in the glove compartment of the car, a favorite song coming through the radio just when you needed a boost, reading a really good book, coming upon a painting that seems to speak to your soul, finding the cherished scarf you thought you’d lost, the smile of a stranger as you pass on the escalator. Little sparks of comfort and goodness light up our days constantly. Are we paying attention?

So, by reminding myself to ‘Celebrate’, I’m going to be more present in all the quotidian goings on. When the peonies explode open is cause to pop the champagne. A morning of weeding and tidying calls for a luxurious soak in the tub. Invite a a few friends for a simple meal of homemade pasta with fresh pesto when the basil is ready for its first harvest. A quick watercolor to mark the unfurling of the roses. A poem to honor the parade of tulips. Wake the family with muffins loaded with just-picked blueberries. ( Place a rose-geranium leaf at the bottom of each muffin cup and then pour the batter. The fragrance is heavenly). In commemorating and rejoicing, we are expressing our gratitude in being fully alive and attuned to the world. How much more human can that be?

I wish each and everyone a year of miracles and celebrations. Every, single day.

While the unusually warm winter days are being favored with plants showing signs of spring, we might as well enjoy the sight. Give them some rightful attention. After all, who knows what will happen when spring months arrive? Below are photos taken this past Sunday at the Cloisters. The gardens looked like it was April. Including the fact that it was raining gently as though coaxing the plants awake.

(c) 2015 Shobha Vanchiswar

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