Spring is promise. The tomatoes will ripen in July. There will be no squash bugs. Apples will hang heavy. The hedge bindweed won’t take root and the roses will flower all summer, unhindered by bindweed and black spot.
That’s my frame of mind every spring and I remember that early liturgist Pius Parsch, saying, “Lent is the springtime of the soul.” That’s right. My meditation will be focused. I’ll drive with an attitude of forgiveness. I won’t eat desert and I will lose 10 pounds. And I’ll write Congress regularly -- long personal letters.
It isn’t just that hope springs eternal in the human breast. Springtime embodies hope. All of nature is quite literally bursting with life. Just look at the small bud casings that litter the ground as leaves and blossoms break out of their bindings.
Suffering continues. So does selfishness. But in my garden all the bulbs are sending up their shoots and I’m eager to see the first sprouts of snow peas and spinach that I dared to plant in February.