Earlier this week toward the end of recess, one of the 3rd/4th graders approached the building with a metal pan in hand. Upon looking closer, I noticed a perfect robin’s egg, nestled in a soft bed of fresh green grass. Evidently the egg was found on the ground somewhere, dropped from its nest. As different students saw this, on their way back into the classroom, there were lots of questions about what to do with the baby bird inside the egg, warnings not to touch it so it could be returned to its mother, and suggestions of the possibility that there might not even be a baby bird inside the egg. The level of empathy and concern was quite touching. It was a delicate sign of spring.
I’ve come to love this season more than any other in my decades of life in the desert. It’s the most beautiful time of year at the Seed. Gardens are overflowing with gigantic chard leaves, and edible nasturtiums, some planted and others volunteers, have appeared in many locations. The wildflower bed on the toddler playground takes my breath away day after day. I keep photographing each new version of its pink, yellow, and purple blooms that change day by day. It’s a time of fruition and celebration for what has come up through the soil from seeds planted in the early fall.
Spring is an ephemeral time of year. The changes are more visible than in other seasons, and it’s an opportunity for deep noticing. There is joy in witnessing the bright yellow petals of a sunflower, and also a reminder to fully appreciate what is seen. For as quickly as the petals form, they begin to wither and fade, as the plant’s emphasis shifts to forming seeds for the next generation. It feels that way with the children as well. They don’t fade and wither like sunflower petals, but they do transform into new versions of themselves, leaving their old selves behind. We are now in the season of fruition, a spring harvest of sorts. Already we are making preparations for the end of the year. Our Seed yearbook is in production and classes are preparing art work for our upcoming annual silent art auction. Soon final assessments will take place, portfolios will be assembled, and end-of-the-year activities will be planned.
I am savoring these days, the cool mornings, and not-so-warm temperatures at recess time. I try not to think about the hot summer looming. I make it a practice to keep my eyes open for the small changes of spring, the robin’s eggs and wildflower explosions, counting on their inspiration to carry me forth into the months ahead.