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Discerning what life is asking of me is always challenging, especially at significant turning points. I know there’s something I’m not “hearing” when there’s a sense of restlessness and discombobulation, with either so many ideas crowding in or with such strong procrastination that it’s hard to focus on tasks that really must be done to keep this little boat of being afloat on life’s ocean. Here at the vernal equinox, new life is beginning to push restlessness into every living thing, apparently adding to the speed of violent disruption in the human world this year, and sadly moving at breakneck speed. You must feel it too.

While I drive through thick darkness, relief, discouragement, and frustration collide. A brief sense of hope, like a sliver of new moon on a cloud drifted night, accompanies an odd jumble of feelings reminiscent of a six-month old child with unfathomable new capacities, lashing out without the faintest idea why. Something big is happening. My bones know. A familiar voice mutters, “You’re giving up.” Something wiser is not listening.

Monarch Butterflies danced in a continuous stream across our yard between June and September 2021. We saw nearly a monarch a day and sometimes several, more than I’d ever seen in one summer. Long hours of gardening in this time of COVID brought the amazing migratory journey of these delicate creatures into sharp focus.