Louise's Utopia: The Spring without Any Sprung And Other Not So Surprising Revelations

Spring-Coteau Valley Farm

We are over two-thirds of the way into spring, and some green blades of grass are just beginning to peek upwards. The buds on the branches are still deeply in slumber and unwilling to emerge. Spring has sprung slowly this year, almost like a slug, very s-l-o-w-l-y. There has not been a whole lotta spring going on, anywhere. Where are the sunny days and flowers? The air is just cold and misty, and the tall grass is still dried, dormant, with the colors of yellow and brown. The prairie is sluggish and seems drained before it has begun to thrive.

I have seen some things that are indicative of spring. There was a large, fat robin. I noticed him standing on the ground outside my window. He was hungrily batting his beak in the dirt. He was obviously in a great battle with something. It was a large, fat thing that looked like it may have been struggling back. I grabbed my binoculars and saw what looked like a snake. It appeared the robin had come across a baby snake. I went outside to scare the robin off and see what it had found; it was only the largest nightcrawler on the planet. Disgusting. That robin would return for his meal, only he did not; the worm is now rotting away in my yard. I was smart, and I quickly added some newspaper scraps and old vegetables to the corpse and waited. I will find out in the following days, There will be a wheelbarrow full of fine compost! The worm was that big.

There has also been a large population of Meadowlarks this year. Sadly, they spend much time on the ground in the field north of my home. In the past weeks, they were busy building their nests on the ground in the tall grass there, just like last year. Recently, though, that field was disked by a large tractor; such is the misery of agricultural fields. That awful day when the tractor made its rounds, the Meadowlarks sat perched on my maple tree in my yard; they were extremely bewildered. I suffered with the pair as their nests were spun out of existence. And we wonder why nature disappears. The day before they disc-harrowed his nest, they dumped fertilizer on it. Joy. I can hear the Meadowlarks singing in the fields of gold with Sting.

I woke up on Easter morning in a hotel room. The room was very dark, as I sat upright in my bed. I looked toward the window where the curtain was cracked. Light gushed in from a small crack in the curtains, a lot of light. I thought of how we always envision the tomb of Christ bursting with light coming from within the cave. We shouldn't, though. Tombs are dark. We only envision Christ's tomb light because we believe in His Resurrection; we know of it. This time, I was seemingly in a dark tomb, and the light was bursting from outside, inward. I found it interesting. The world is filled with the light of Christ on Easter and every day. We can not remain stuck in dark tombs like we would have expected Christ to be on that Easter morning, long ago. I got up and dressed. I was ready to face the day, even if it meant less-than-perfect days. Just like the meadowlark that endures the farmer destroying its nest because it naturally does what it should for God alone. I will try too. Love doesn’t end when suffering begins; real love starts when suffering creeps in. The valuable love we should seek out, here on earth. Purifying love will no longer be needed in Heaven. Love on earth will always be closely intertwined with suffering until our suffering is no longer needed. And yes, suffering is necessary for all of us; it expands our hearts. If you do not suffer a situation, it’s probably just worldly love, love for one's private gains; this kind of love has little to do with God. That kind of love's rewards end when the enjoyment ends. I know plenty of people suffer tremendously. I hope they somehow know there is a purpose to that strife. I'll try to be like the meadowlark, We have to keep on singing even when everything set before us says not to sing. Everyone can try!