The Art of the Personal New Year: Why I Reset in Spring, Not Winter What I’m “Burying in the Ground” and What I’m Cultivating This Spring

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I’m going to be 39 this year. My birthday is in about a month (give or take a few days).

I am a spring baby, born in Texas in March 1987.

Spring is one of my favorite seasons (with Fall close behind).

Here, in Texas, Spring has already sprung – and I am loving it!

As far as Texas goes, while many of our laws and corrupt government officials and politicians are ass-backwards, the land itself (what hasn’t yet been destroyed by oil and gas production, farming, and overdevelopment) is beautiful (even if it is a shadow of what it was when I was growing up).  

If you’re going to be in Texas, the two best seasons to be here are Fall, when the leaves change, and Spring, when the wildflowers bloom (though I also love visiting our beaches in winter, when it’s cold enough that most of the tourists stay away because over-crowded beaches don’t do it for me).

Both seasons have similar mild-to-warm weather, with highs mostly above 70F but below 90F (which is pretty cool for Texas and ideal weather for me).

I also love that Spring and Fall are visually very colorful.

Fall is beautiful, as its changing leaves signal a slowing down and the upcoming Winter, with several seasons of transition (away from the more than 6 months of hot, humid weather that follows spring here).

I do love Fall… but if I could only pick one favorite season, especially if we’re talking about Texas, Spring, and its newly budding flowers, would have to be my favorite.

All the plant life ripening to a juicy green feels like a rebirth, energetic and alive.

Fall, and its smell of decaying leaves, signals an end and letting go, but Spring and its smell of fresh flowers signal a beginning.

It started when our first 80F day hit us, then another, and another, spread out at first, but growing more frequent week by week.

Soon after our last freeze, little green buds began sprouting from the ground as the grass, flowers, vines, and other plants started to bounce back from sleeping through a winter that was mild even by Texas standards.

Finally, last week, after a season of mostly cardinals, grackles, and birds of prey, the songbirds started arriving, and this week we have had four days in the high to mid-80s, one in the mid-70s, and two days with highs in the 60s.

Though we often have another late February freeze, it doesn’t seem like one is on the way this year.

Soon, many of our naked trees will start filling themselves back up with leaves, and baby birds in carefully made nests will be perched upon their branches.

There will also be many babies- baby deer, bunnies, possums, raccoons, cows, and other little ones in the fields, along with many other critters… and I, too, once upon a time, was a spring baby in this place.

Eventually, the fields we care for in the cooler months will begin to fill with wild flowers and the smallest of creatures who depend on them. Then, as the brutally humid and hot Texas summer sinks in, we will be chased northward by the weather (since our RV is not one of the fancy four-season ones with climate control that can handle temperatures above 90F), but in this moment, I am simply enjoying the longer days, and proximity to those in my life who are closest to me (something I miss sometimes when we travel in the warmer months).

I am bathing in Spring, and having more and more sunlight each day.

I am watching sunsets with David, taking walks and playing fetch outside with the dogs, and making time to go out into nature with my closest friends.

I will sit on the riverbanks, spend time at my mother’s home, do arts and crafts with my family, and sit and listen to my grandmother as she tells her stories before these moments pass.

Summer will be here before I know it, especially with this mild winter, so I am savoring this precious time while I can (because these days, considering the state of the world, every time we leave this place, there’s always a tugging in my mind, “what if we never come back?”).

“What if something happens to us?” or “What if Texas or cross-country travel becomes so dangerous we get stuck somewhere and can’t return?”

The thoughts are always there, but there’s not much I can do except be mindful to do what we can to prepare and not to take these moments (that I may long for one day) for granted… so I savor each one like it may be the last – a last walk with a friend, the last day I see my family, or the last time I touch Texas soil (a state I’ve battled a love-hate relationship with my entire life),

I make my packing list of things I want to take with me and what I want to leave behind for safekeeping.

I research ways to hide the signals that allow electronics like cellphones, laptops, and tablets to be tracked and located.

My go bag is always packed.

“What will we need to survive?” “What can I let go of?” “What can’t we afford to replace?” “What do I want to try and store so it doesn’t get lost or broken?”

I think about the dogs we care for and who might be the best caretakers for them in an emergency.

I also think about how, though they’ve grown up together, 4 dogs are more than most people can handle, and how they will probably be split up if we can no longer be responsible for keeping them safe.

I consider, and I plan, and sometimes I cry… but I can’t dwell in this dark place.

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