We’ve had a pretty mild winter where I live. The groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, did not see his shadow on his special day, promising a short season. Locals have worn shorts and rode their bikes along the lake more than once during the past few weeks.

Still, spring is not settling in easily. Violent rain with hail has come down. March blizzards have closed highways in other states and tornadoes have torn roofs off homes.

With the temperature boomeranging, from seventy degrees one day to the thirty-three the next, it’s more than a dilemma about wardrobe that has me a little rattled.

The other morning, I caught sight of budding flowers, maybe daffodils, hugging the exterior wall of a three-flat.

Despite the chill in the air, there were several flowers that had already opened up and nearby stems that reached up towards the sky but refused to flash any color but green.

I imagined a conversation between the two plant neighbors, sharing this small patch of dirt.

Why don’t you open up?

It’s just going to freeze again in a couple days.

Why don’t you open up and show off your yellow petals?

It’s safe and warm here under this ground cover. I don’t want a strong wind to pull me out by my roots or have some Goldendoodle pee on me.

Of course, this exchange was all in my head, but it made me think about letting go and just living moment by moment.

It’s in a flower’s nature to open up when it gets a certain amount of sunshine and consecutive days of warm temperatures. It can’t worry about the cold-snap that might come the following week.

Flowers don’t try not to bloom if the conditions are right, even if severe frost might move in the next day.

Maybe humans are the only living things that are preoccupied with dying and put so much effort in trying to avoid it.

Perhaps there are some good reasons; a sense of obligation to others, the anticipated grief and loneliness of loved ones, not wanting to die before fulfilling one’s purpose.

Or, maybe it is simply lack of imagination and wrong understanding.

I don’t know if anyone can really fail to live one’s purpose. Yes, people might aspire to have certain careers and have different talents they want to use, but in a sense, learning through our experiences and bringing love to whatever we do is fulfilling our purpose enough.

The world was not created for our personal pleasure (or hell).  Life will go on whether we live or not. Some flowers will bloom when the spring heats up and die if the following week brings bad weather. No failure on their part.

I believe this, and yet, I’m conscious of how much fear has seeped into my psyche.

When Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Do something that scares you every day,” I know she was referring to expanding one’s comfort zone, not sitting through a slasher film.

Yet, stretching my comfort zone seems to be so hard. I may seek out incremental ways to make changes. First, I may entertain ideas of what is possible. Then, I might consider related actions that are do-able. Then, I’ll try holding the idea that a new way to be can become automatic.

I might seek out the company of people who I feel won’t judge me, to make trials and setbacks a little easier.

But, even if I think I’m failing or if I stop trying, even if I die _— my energy never disappears. I will always be part of LIFE.

Letting the vulnerability of early spring blooms teach you to live without fear is no small thing.