Prairie grass with rain water. Photo by Noelle

The scent fills my nostrils the moment I open the front door. A curious mixture of earth, rain and prairie wind. Winter storms in the Rockies have come and gone over the past few weeks, hiding spring’s arrival under wet spring snow. Buds can be seen and crab-apple blossoms, but the distinct scent of the season has remained elusive.

Every season comes with it’s own aroma. Something that enters your body and quickens the blood within the vessels. Consciously or not, we are moved by the shifting elements. Our psyche bends, just as light refracts in water, to the qualities of each new season. We sense just below our conscious mind the new wind of potentials.

Much of humanity’s power lies in our ability to defy the seasons or even the times of day. One hundred years ago we didn’t live as we do now. Out in subzero temperatures while remaining toasty warm, up till midnight in well-lit homes, able to move ourselves from point A to point B with little regard for weather or season. There were no fruits or vegetables out of season back then, because no shipping brought us things as they do today. One hundred years ago weather and the coming season factored far more into decisions. Humanity has learned to live outside the constraints of Earth’s cycles and a planet with varying elements. There is great wonder in that.

Verbascum Thapus with rain water. Photo by Noelle

Still, there is something, too, to allow oneself to be moved deeply by the shifts of the planet’s axis. Allowing our being to be altered by the new angle of a setting sun. To celebrate and embrace a new constellation of stars in the night sky or the first call of an early Robin from the South. To stand long enough in the open air that the microscopic water that floats all around us begins to collect on our skin.

We are not separate from this Earth’s patterns, because we have developed technology to live outside of those patterns. We have gained heat in winter, air-conditioning in summer, but lost delight in simple things. The first crocus pushing up through wet, winter snow.

Wildflower, South Valley Park, Ken Caryl: Photo by Noelle

I breathe deeply of it and ignore a mind that pays attention to leaving time for work, fully enjoying a gift that will not likely be available again in just this way. The scent of spring in the Rockies: A curious mixture of earth, rain and prairie wind.