The snow no longer crunches beneath my boots. The ground is softening. Quietly, quietly, spring is arriving. April doesn’t rush in—it seeps. In the thaw of the earth, in the drip of branches, in the sudden flutter of wings overhead. There’s a stillness here, but it’s not empty—it’s pregnant with potential. This is the season of slow awakenings. Of muddy shoes and bare patches of grass. Of nettles peeking through the soil and the scent of earth returning to the air. We are not in full bloom, but we are no longer buried.

And maybe that’s the beauty of it—

Not the full burst of spring, but the quiet thaw that reminds us: Life returns. Even the coldest seasons don’t last forever. If you’re reading this, I hope you’re feeling a little more light on your skin. A little more softness in your breath. And maybe, just maybe, a little more ready to begin again. I am. Welcome back April, we missed you.