40 Ways My Labyrinth is Like My Life--#39

39. It never stops growing, no matter what.

I suppose this may not be true in the strictest sense. I know that when the temperature falls below 40 degrees, grass stops growing, and most other things are dormant in the winter, too. Some things actually have to have a certain number of days below freezing in order to thrive. But that dormant season is only for the purpose of resting and storing energy so that everything can begin anew in spring.

It starts before you can see it. Underneath a crust of snow, perhaps, or down in the mud of an early thaw, roots begin to stir. Insects and worms think about moving again. Sap starts creeping up the “veins” in tree trunks and vines. Long before any green appears, there’s a red tinge to briers, but you only notice it at a distance, where there are a lot of branches together in one mass. After a while, there’s a certain odor—more like a feel to the air. It’s almost as if your own veins begin to stir a little, your brain cells start to stretch and yawn.

Then one day, the grass is suddenly greener than it was last week, and there are hard little buds on the reddening berry vines and a reddish tinge up in the very tops of the tall trees, too. Then—there it is! A crocus! Those birds and beasts and berries and leaves that were slowly stretching a week ago are in a tearing hurry all at once, and you’re already behind on mowing and digging and planting . . . and it’s spring!

I’ve lived long enough to spend a lot of time feeling sluggish and dormant and worrying that everything in my heart looks dead and brown and hopeless. I’ve learned that most of what seems dead isn’t, that it’s easier to tell what is truly past hope and needs cut off after the greening season begins again, and most important of all, that only the Master Gardener knows for sure which is dead and which just needs pinching back in order to spring forth twice as vibrant as before. The problem is, of course, getting pinched back hurts! It doesn’t feel like something that’s going to cause growth. I don’t like it! I don’t suppose my grape vines, do, either.

I always apologize and try to do it gently and quickly. I’m pretty sure they’re okay with it. Because it’s the growth, the fruit, that really matters.