Impossible Things

Impossible Things

According to those in the know, meteorological spring began just over a week ago on the first day of March. Well, those in the know, don’t know that spring around here doesn’t arrive until mid-April, if we’re lucky. But still, it feels good to hear the word “spring”.

After all, spring is the season of rebirth and hope, isn’t it?

Anyway, I was thinking of all the impossible things that come with spring. The trees, which all winter long have looked like dark skeletons cracking against the ubiquitous sky of gray, are now sporting tiny buds. To be sure, you have to look closely, but if you do you’ll see the impossible. You’ll see life springing from the brittle skeletons of winter-dead trees.

But let me tell you right now, it’s cold. Very cold and windy still. Those buds have no business popping out on the branches of the still-sleeping trees. But they are there. I have seen impossible things like tiny buds of summer on a walk on one of winter’s dying days.

And walking yesterday, on the wooden boardwalk that winds its way through the woods, I noticed green things, sprouting up from the brown-black forest floor. And looking closer I saw tiny purple crocuses bringing brilliant spots of color to the drab winter-painted forest. These impossible things… but I saw them yesterday.

Impossible things. The crocuses are not deterred by winter’s draconian hand. They shot their little heads up out of the nearly-frozen ground this year defying the colorless drab of the forest. These defiant little things laugh in the face of winter’s cold harsh breath. I’ve seen impossible things!

The green shoots have popped up through the dreary, muddy, forest floor, which is still covered with leaves that died last fall and have refused to decay. These green shoots will soon display beautiful yellow and white flowers. These green shoots, shivering in the near-freezing wind, will become daffodils.

These daffodils have been sleeping underground since last spring. A year in the ground yet are resurrected each spring by an unseen power.  I have again seen impossible things.

Many people think I’m crazy, and by the time I’m done, you probably will too. I cannot help what you or anyone else thinks, and what does it matter anyway? We are all in this thing together – I mean you are on the same short ride on this tiny globe spinning through space as I am.

Even when I’m sitting quietly in my broken-down easy chair, watching Kung Fu reruns, grasshopper, I’m still traveling thousands of miles per hour – riding on this big round bus through the blackness of space. The Earth spins around on its axis. The Earth orbits the sun. The sun orbits the center of the galaxy. And the galaxy is racing through the universe headed to only heaven knows where. All these impossible things are happening all around me while I sit in a  chair watching Kung Fu reruns – grasshopper.

Which reminds me… I have found another good book to read. I’ll turn off Kung Fu reruns and read a book on my Kindle, A book with no pages to turn. 

Impossible things!

When I think about things, it makes me think about other things. Every time I walk out my door and see the crocuses blooming, trees budding, and grass greening, it not only reminds me that spring is very near. Seeing those tiny purple blossoms that rose out of the dead, cold, nearly-frozen ground, makes me think about life and all the impossible, marvelous, wondrous things that surround me… and you.

Why are there crocuses? What purpose do they serve? They bloom and die before the weather warms. They are only around for a few days. They come and go so quickly. They disappear for almost an entire year. What does this mean? What kind of evolutionary processes are at work here? Why does evolution produce so many mistakes? While crocuses are rather pretty little flowers, they seem to have no purpose. But I’m sure they do.

And it seems to me that this applies to a lot of things that thrive a lot longer than crocuses – coconut palms come to mind. I don’t like coconut. But even coconut palms provide shade and probably homes to various little insects, critters, and parasites.

But crocuses? Daffodils? They bloom and die while it is still cold before even the hardiest pests and parasites dare to venture out. They feed nothing – there are no bugs or parasites in winter – they are too smart to burrow forth. Crocuses provide a home to nothing. But they are beautiful, even if their beauty is evanescent.

Then again, all beauty is transitory, isn’t it?

Why do we have daffodils and crocuses? Maybe to make me think – and wonder.

This spring, I have to admit to myself that I’m growing old and don’t have many springs awaiting me. So, that makes each spring important, because spring, more than any other season, is the season of impossible things.

Everything has a purpose and everything has a reason for being. And even if it’s not immediately clear what that reason is, it makes me think.

Today I saw the first colors of spring on the floor of a brown and dead winter forest. Purple crocuses, boldly daring to break the bonds of winter. And the green shoots of daffodils defying the cold, later-winter wind.

And I think to myself, these are impossible things I’ve seen. Little miracles, I guess, if any miracle can be called “little”.

I’ve been blessed to see impossible things today. And I think now that crocuses and daffodils do have a purpose. They are beautiful muses. 

They are amazing examples of the tenacity of life and tiny emissaries of hope.

I hope you choose to go outside today and explore your world.

Maybe you will see some impossible things too!