Spring sunshine ain't pretty

The forest preserves aren't especially attractive this time of year.
(That's a little viewing deck in the middle distance.)

Adam and I thought this sign was pretty funny... I mean, the place looks like a wasteland. But then, this is March is the upper Midwest. Not a pretty sight, anyway you look at it. But the power lines just add a special touch to the whole "restoration" idea. (These are the same power lines that run past my apartment -- the world IS connected, by power lines if nothing else.)

This one I took earlier in March. Yes, sunshine is nice;
but snow covers up some of the ugliness.

One of my parishioners, Peg, said something to me a week or two ago about the angst and danger inherent in spring (correct me, here, Peg, please): that it's about emerging from the grip of death.

Sunshine uncovers all the dead things hiding under the snow. This ain't pretty. Spring is a painful time, in these climes. Even fall, when everything is dying, has beauty; changing leaves, many shades of brown and beige, the late harvest of pumpkins, turnips, kale... But spring = raw and mud and all that's been rotting and fading under the snow and ice, all winter. Still, spring is necessary, obviously. The revealing of death, to make the transition again to new life! (Anyone recognize the resurrection here?)

Maybe this is also true in human life: sunshine (friendship? sharing our secrets? exercise? prayer?) uncovers some of the ugliness in us -- melts away the defenses we use to hide our wounds. It may get ugly for a while, but over time, sunshine is better. Dries out wounds and opens them to the air. Warms the soil of our hearts for new growth. Seek it out, people -- inside and out!