One of my favorite sayings is by Albert Camus. "In the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer."  If I had my preferences and could change the quote, it would be spring instead of summer for a whole lot of reasons. For me, the best season is spring, the rebirth of the earth and the rebirth of my spirit after weathering the winter months.

Although I do love the coming of winter, the crispness of the air, the snow and the rain, which gives me adequate reasons to curl up by a fire with a glass of wine and a good book, I also tire of the dreary, darkened skies and bone-chilling cold winds. Before the brief winter months pass, I find myself longing to see leaves on the trees and flowers in the garden.

Today as I walked outside, I saw that my daffodils were poking their green shoots up through the packed dirt. How do they know when to do this? Even more baffling, I have some bulbs in the kitchen that I dug up last fall when I was planting something else. Sadly, they have sat through the winter on my kitchen counter in a plastic bowl - no dirt and no water. As I pass them daily, I have thought to myself that I should have buried them or thrown them out. Yet, even they have marked the days and nights between winter and spring. Tiny white shoots are now protruding from these unattended bulbs. They want to live and I will rebury them very soon.

I don't see any evidence on the news that spring is coming anytime soon. After all, it is only the end of January. The nights are cold, the weather is bad but mother nature is already preparing for the days when the sun will shine warmer and the ground will yield up its verdant treasures decorated with the vibrant and subtle colors of flora. 

Outside my office window, the first robins have found their way to the yard. My sparrows, cardinals, and wrens that have fed at the feeder all winter have new company this week.  More signs of an impending spring.

I see my season of introspection approaching an end and ponder whether or not I have done enough soul-searching. Have I become a better person this past year or a more jaded one? Although I am looking forward to the wonder that weaves its way into every fiber of my being when the world blooms again, I am reluctant to put aside my season of emotional solitude.

As surely as the earth rotates and the tides ebb and flow, my spirit will follow the course of the seasons.  As the world recreates itself, I too find myself preparing for an emotional spring.