The Bravery to Grow
Something about the winter makes everything feel more real. The cold air on my face wakes me up. I can get pretty deep into the planning part of my year during these weeks, but there’s enough going on to keep me rooted in the present. The world might look flat and un-landmarked, covered in a blanket of snow or a grey coat of clouds, but that’s only when I limit my perspective to what I can see. When I pull out what I can feel, a whole new layer opens up.
Recently, I spent a day in the high tunnels - those big white half-cylinders you see when you drive onto the farm. They’re unheated, but combined with row covers for the plants, they keep it warm enough for hardy plants even in the harsh Utah winter. Underneath them, there’s a farm growing. Even now, in these least hospitable months, I can touch a leaf. I can pull up a fresh carrot. If I do just a little - provide a little insulation and shelter - the plants do the rest. There’s an unspeakable bravery in that.
What can we learn from that bravery? Can we find that same determination, that same confidence and richness of spirit? I pull the collar of my jacket up to shield my face. I intend to find out.