The world is misty green with dropped pools of brown water. All these months wishing for water instead of winter’s pure white solid. Now the abundance of water makes me feel something close to revulsion. It is so wet, exclaims the human, me.

Once again I feel the echo of some great parent is saying….see, see I told you so. You wanted spring and now here it is and you don’t like it. But but I whine back, I like late spring when every grass is polished new green, flowers bud and uncurl in daily synchronicity, the sky is bright blue and the sun heats my face.

But, but. So human, so childlike really. So like a poster I had on my wall in college. “I want what I want when I want it.” I first fail at the Spring test of patience; dealing with a season leaving a mud imprint every time you step outside.

It is ironic really, coming from a person who should enjoy seeing change happen. I work with the mostly unseen parts of change. The healing from loss or trauma only shows in my office in self report. People tell me how they heal. I don’t see, physically see, much of it.

Spring is change; ugly, messy with kernels of green hope. This parade of foggy mornings can create an unrelentingly gloomy mood. Its temporary, I keep reminding myself walking through this silent gray brown country.

So what can I like about this part of spring? I like seeing hope. Seeing the ground and touching dirt below sodden brown leaves. Watching from the wet sand lake shore while ice buckles and booms, ice cracks widen and submerge. I like the rain baptizing my face as I walk. I like wearing boots and defiantly walking straight through puddles. In fact, I like wearing raincoats instead of down jackets.

Spring can, the parent in me pipes up, remind me how to manage the part of me wanting what I want when ( and how) I want it. Spring can help me with the ethical challenge of how be less greedy and satisfied with enough. I like simple. Spring, a parade of gray, brown and wet is that.