There have been moments in-between. The moments where I feel the most lucid, where my head isn’t filled with theory, or concepts, or longing for family and Arizona and sunshine, or any of the millions of things that fill my head so much that it hurts constantly.

Those moments are precious.

This morning I looked out the big window in my living. I love this window. It’s what keeps me sane sometimes. Right now, it looks over green grass, bird feeders, a line of trees, and, ultimately, a little pond. Today the grass was a beautiful new spring green. The trees are starting to fill with budding leaves. The sky, since the window faces the west, was tinged with pinks and blues from the sunrise, but mostly overcast. It was an odd color that brought out the greens in a really amazing way.

And in those moments, I love Minnesota. I love the way it embraces life after a long cold winter (and truth be told, I LOVED the winter here — loved it).

I was complaining to my brother a few days ago that we seemed to have bypassed spring. We went straight from winter (below 30F) and straight into summer (getting into the 70sF). I wondered where those 40F and 50F days were, the ones that get you excited about the warming weather. He told me that’s what I get for living so far north.

We took a slight turn and came back to those spring days. We are getting the gorgeous spring rain showers and thunderstorms that herald in new life.

Nature, I find, gives me the moments in-between. It reminds me, as it did in Arizona, that everything is cyclical, that it all works out, provides, and replenishes eventually. I’m filled with moments of peace when I watch the large male turkey during the winter, the beautiful robins in the spring, and the way the sun ripples across the water and ice in all seasons.

These moments, these in-between moments, encourage me and give me hope.