Spring has arrived in northern Indiana. But then, it has been arriving for some time. This post goes back in time, to early April, and the days of brown woods (but mossy paths) and the first crocus and windflowers. By the end of that week, the green gauze of leaves opening was washing through the woods.

May was a full month, beginning with a retreat at Lindenwood Retreat Center in Donaldson, IN, and moving on through yard and household projects in addition to the usual things. I took photos, but haven't had time or energy to post. So, over the next few days, we'll have a May retrospective.

Thanks to cooler weather, the blossoms of redbud and crabapple trees lasted longer than usual. Both were in view at our Great Lakes Mennonite Spiritual Directors retreat, which had the theme of Abundant Life in Liminal Spaces. The labyrinth was a recurring image of "liminal space". The group that walked the labyrinth for a spiritual practices session discovered that geese had been there before them, leaving "gifts" along the way. Initially frustrated by this, the group decided that actually this was a lot like life -- that often the thresholds of change and transition, the liminal spaces, have a lot of messiness about them. (How appropriate to be reminded the following Sunday, Pentecost, that one Celtic image for the Holy Spirit is wild geese.)

There were plenty of wild geese in the small lake, and a turtle sunning itself on our one beautiful sunny warm day, and an osprey soaring above its nest and perch in a nearby field.

I had an hour or so out in the woods at Pathways Retreat Center last Saturday, one of the first really warm sunny days this spring. The upper branches were still bare, but the greening has started. Hildegard of Bingen, a 12th century German abbess, musician, theologian and visionary, wrote of the greening power of God, or viriditas (Latin for greenness).  Greening, freshness, vitality, life-force, growth -- it's in sight all around us this time of year. Green flames everywhere I looked -- and a few golden touches as well. Enjoy the green, and celebrate Earth Day this Friday.

For liturgical churches, purple is the color of Lent, the season we are now in, the forty days plus Sundays leading up to Easter. The word itself comes from the Old English word for spring, and is related to various Germanic languages meaning the lengthening of days. These crocus celebrate the purple and glow with the spring light.

In northern Indiana, we're at one of the year's hinges (how appropriate that yesterday was Leap Day!). One day the glimpses of white are the snowdrops coming up through brown leaves and green pachysandra, and the calligraphy of bare white sycamore branches lit by the sun.
A day or two later, those snowdrops are covered with snow and the only "flowers" to be seen are icy caps on dried seedheads. One sunlit clump of snow reminds me of cupped hands -- holding the thought of spring, perhaps? A day later, the snow is gone, and the snowdrops have grown several inches. And I spot early crocus, white and yellow, in my south-facing window well. Despite today's winter weather advisory, spring is on its way.