Part of Something Bigger

The longer days of Spring put a fire under my butt to get busy. Busy building stuff. Busy growing stuff. Busy cleaning stuff. Spring causes me to despise television time in light of breaking out the reel mower to give the grass a trim. I want to build a chicken coop or raise a barn. The Sun in the sky past 7 pm is just begging for someone's hands to get buried in the dirt it warmed all day. The overflowing gutters around the rim of the house lure me closer with the promise of satisfyingly hard work. My cheeks touch the ground as I watch intently for seeds to miraculously come to life expanding upward toward light and production. I want to gather hot fresh eggs and hear a rooster crow. I want to lie down on a blanket in the grass after dark and just listen. The buzz of bees as they finish their days work. Whippoorwills whistling their annual song. Guttural croaks from frogs on trees. Tiny bugs traipsing through the grass. The crunching steps of unseen animals deep in the woods.

Spring reminds me that I am part of something bigger. I am a living organism. Alive like the trees and frogs and Whippoorwills. I, like them, am composed of elements, atoms and cells. We are all linked on the same chain of food and life. I, like them, will rot someday. By the fundamental laws of nature we all move toward increased entropy. In the end, we are the same. Spring forces me to remember the brevity of my life. Like the drone bees who live little more than a month, I too will come to an end. What will I have accomplished? Who will I have influenced? It doesn't really matter if my name lives on as long as my ideals stretch on to impact lives even after my body has gone back to nature. Spring pushes me to be better. To be more. To hear more. To stop more. To listen more.