Plant the Seed Anyway

Even when the ground is still covered in snow, something new may already be beginning.

The first day of spring is fast approaching. That pesky daylight saving time change has begun to pull us into longer days. When the sun comes out, we turn like sunflowers—faces lifted, soaking it all in.

We dig out the rubber boots and splash pants for our kids and watch in anticipation as the snow slowly disappears.

The song of new birds fills the air, mixed with the sound of melting snow running toward the gutters. We start thinking about what we’ll plant in our gardens this year. Maybe we’ll switch up the flowers on the front porch. Planning for growth… even when the weather hasn’t quite made up its mind.

I love laying on my bed in the afternoon when the sun hits just right, imagining I’m soaking up every bit of vitamin D I lost over the winter. And the fresh scent of spring? There’s nothing quite like it.

Depending on where you live, spring might arrive sooner than it does here. I was going to say “later,” but mid-May feels pretty late… and yet, that’s often our reality in Alberta.

Today is March 14. The sky is blue. The air is crisp. And the ground? Covered in fresh snow.

Around here, we don’t always get spring rain. Sometimes, we just get more snow.

And still—this week, there will be people walking around in shorts with no coats. It won’t matter that it’s chilly. They’ve decided they’re done with winter, and that’s that.

Oh, spring. How we love the hope you bring.

The blooming flowers. The green leaves. Lilac bushes. Tulips.

Spring carries energy. Life. Renewal. Restoration.

And yet, if I’m honest, I hesitate to fully commit to the promise of it.

Maybe it’s because we can’t truly embrace the new without letting go of the old.

I soak up the warm days, but I stay a little guarded… because I know tomorrow could bring a snowstorm. And when it does, I’ll shrug and say, well, we do need the moisture.

Spring can be a bit of a fickle friend.

But the truth is, we can’t carry everything forward with us.

A tree can’t grow new leaves if it refuses to let go of the old ones.

A lilac bush wouldn’t be beautiful if it held onto last year’s blooms.

A brook couldn’t flow if it insisted on keeping its ice.

Sometimes, even when we deeply want something new, we still try to drag the old along with us.

If that’s you… that’s okay.

Change is both exciting and uncomfortable. It asks us to trust ourselves. To follow what’s stirring in us. To believe there might be something better ahead.

Like the tiny carrot seed planted in the spring—small, almost invisible—yet with time, patience, and care, it becomes something you can hold in your hands with pride.

That’s the beauty of spring.

It’s the anticipation of what’s to come, paired with the understanding that there may still be cold days.

And yet… every year, we plant anyway.

Because when the geese return, flying in their proud V’s across the sky, we know something has shifted.

Spring has come—no matter what the weatherman says.

A gentle question to take with you:

What might be waiting to grow in your life… if you were willing to plant the seed anyway?