The Dance of Transitions: From Winter to Spring

Transition. The word itself holds so much weight—movement, change, adaptation. It’s been on my mind a lot today, especially with the weather we’re about to face this weekend. The changing of seasons, particularly winter into spring, is one of my favorites. It’s a time when life reawakens: buds bloom on the trees, birds fill the air with their songs, and colorful flowers emerge, coaxing the bees back into action. It’s as if the earth is exhaling after a long, icy sigh.

But with this transition comes its fair share of frustrations. Here in Maine, we have a term for one of the more maddening parts of this seasonal shift: false spring. You know the one—it teases you with a few days of warmth, lures you into packing away your heavy coats and snow shovels, and then slams you with another round of snow, often garnished with a little freezing rain for good measure. It’s a cruel joke, one that many of us endure year after year.

False spring doesn’t just toy with us humans; it throws the bees for a loop too. As the temperatures rise, bees break from their clusters and begin moving again. They take their cleansing flights, start preparing for brood rearing, and generally get ready to kickstart their busy season. But when the weather takes another nosedive, it’s as though winter has rudely reappeared at their doorstep, demanding to come back inside. It’s a disruption that must feel as jarring for them as it does for us.

I find myself empathizing with the bees. Looking out the window, my heart echoes their frustration. I, too, am ready to stretch my legs, dig my hands into the soil, and feel the warmth of the sun as I plant the first seeds of the season. But instead, I’m stuck indoors, glaring at yet another forecast of snow and ice, wistfully imagining the day I can finally step out into the garden.

Transitions, however, don’t just occur in nature; they happen in our daily lives as well, and they’re often accompanied by their own unique challenges. One struggle I often face during transitions is allowing myself to slow down—something winter so graciously offers. Winter invites us to turn inward, to reflect, to plan. Yet, as spring approaches, I often find myself racing to get out the door, ready to go, go, go. It’s as though the quiet pace of winter is overtaken by a sudden urgency.

Are you like this too? Are you the person in your group whom friends and family gently remind, “Hey, slow down every once in a while”? If so, hello, kindred spirit. Like the bees, we go, go, go until we drop—quite literally. Every choice, every task, every moment seems to serve some greater purpose or project. Yet in this constant rush, it’s so easy to lose ourselves in the humdrum of everyday life and the fast-paced rhythm society demands of us.

But what if slowness was a gift? What if transitions, instead of being a frantic race, could be moments of reflection, rest, and rejuvenation? Winter offers this opportunity to pause, and perhaps it’s something we can carry forward into spring as well. What if we could shift from being “human doings” to “human beings”? To breathe deeply, move mindfully, and ground ourselves in the present moment?

The most profound transitions may not be the ones dictated by the seasons but rather the ones that guide us deeper into ourselves. They may be the moments when we align with the natural rhythms and seasons, embracing their lessons as they come. This spring, I invite us all to consider what it might mean to move more slowly, to reflect more deeply, and to transition not just outwardly, but inwardly.

Here’s to finding beauty in the chaos, patience in the waiting, and growth in the stillness.