By Teresa Smith, Journal contributor

It is February, and amongst the cold rain and wind, a little iris pops its head above ground. Soon after, some crocuses arrive. With the first warm day, my mood lifts, and I feel drawn to get into the garden. To get out there with the horses. To open a seed catalogue. On that first warm day, I hear birds that have not sung since before winter. The light itself has a different color. I drink in the smell of spring.

I go out for a walk. Two cats, a dog and the horses follow. The horses have only known me as food bringer for the last few months. Now we start to connect. They are so willing.

I will remember this feeling next year. The next dead of winter. Winter solstice when winter feels heavy. Even oppressive at times. Socked in with very little light. Next year I will remember the first little iris that will bloom when it is still winter.

I noticed this winter’s sadness and gloom. Some worry and grief. I know it is the time of year to go deep into these emotions. To process and heal, so that in the spring, I will flourish once again.

And so, I notice that among the new spring flowers and a warm breeze, I feel hope, and along with hope, there is abundance and joy.