This week, as the warm spring gave us a small glimpse of her arrival, I set out to hike a rocky trail through the woods of Warwick County Park in Pennsylvania. The day was overcast, and a strong wind blew through the trees. As I ascended higher toward the top of the hill, the wind began to growl, and the stark tree branches knocked against each other. Difficult weather was coming. I had limited time to go up and come down before the storm hit. Although I had hiked this trail many times throughout the years, I made my way with care. In the thick woods, plenty of rocks and roots inhabit the trail and can make the ascent challenging. I have hiked this path through all seasons, with different companions, different moods, and different ideas about my life.

In the summer, I am surrounded by a lush green forest while batting away mosquitos. In the fall, hundreds of red, orange, and yellow leaves sprinkle down around me and cover the trail to make for some tricky footing. And sometimes in the stillness of the winter, I walk twice as slowly because the ice and snow are bigger obstacles than they appear. I can guide myself through these changing environments because the path is always the same path, with the same elevation differences, the same twists and turns, and the same white blazes on the trees that mark my journey.

Challenges. Surprises. Problems.

Looking outside today, I see the tulips in my front yard are starting to poke through, and soon it will be time to plant peas and onions. Winter hasn’t yet departed. She reminds us of her presence with her mid-afternoon snow squalls or the occasional surprising mix of snow and sleet. A tulip blossom with snow on it. Maple buds encased in glittering orbs of ice. Last week, my evening walk was in darkness, but this week the setting sun is high enough to warm my face. Raucous birds greet a warm morning. Then silence as it snows. Swings of temperature, color, scent, and much more. It can change in a day. It can change in a few minutes. With little warning these events run on and offstage—then back again in this springtime production.

Frozen blooms. Birdsong. Cold winds.

How wonderful to have chaotic spring contrasted to the other seasons, while teaching us so much. This unexpectedness is a natural and crucial part of my life, worthy of reflection. Spring’s fickle arrival is a reminder that life is naturally sometimes a big mess.

Rocks. Roots. Slippery leaves.

We are constantly being asked to adjust, and it is okay. It is okay to see the storm on the horizon and change course. I suppose we like to think we can plan for everything, but maybe we are just on that well-worn path, and what is around us is changing. Perhaps we can try to embrace this process, knowing that sometimes our footing and our surroundings are unsure, yet we may know the way because we have done it before. Or maybe we can try one of the connected trails and go somewhere new. The journey will be different, and that’s a good thing. Transition and continuation as we move forward. This is the way of spring.