As we slowly shed the layers of winter in New England, a great joy of the springtime is the chance to reconnect with the earth – literally. 

Feet on the ground, I feel the squish of the melting season and the bounce of the new grass emerging.

Hands in the soil, I meet the life teeming just below the surface, spiders scurrying out of the way and nematodes wriggling in the new light.

Knees on the turf, I witness the tiny red arrows of emerging peonies, giant puffballs of bloom already developing within.

Dear ones,

let us glory in this season,

attending the bluebird’s sermon,

ministering to the rhubarb,

worshiping the worms.