Emerge: to move out of or away from something and come into view; become apparent, important or prominent

Especially in Wisconsin, depending on the year, sometimes Spring comes on in fits and starts. Other years it seems to get skipped over completely, leaping directly from cold and snow to hot and humid. Only rarely, does Spring emerge steadily and slowly.

So far this year seems like we may be treated to a slow coming into view. This past weekend, it became distinctly apparent that momentum toward spring is building. A few crocuses are already blooming and the tulips are coming up. Temperatures were in the 60s which made for very pleasant conditions to do yard work. I finally was able to carry the rest of the white pine branches to the curb that had come down during winter storms and then gotten too frozen in the snow to move.

The most exciting activity was getting the two waterfalls and the fountain going. This was the first year that I have taken on getting the pondless waterfall going myself, so it was particularly satisfying when the first water emerged from the spillway and made it down to the bottom ready for the pump to push it up back up to the top. And it was nice to be able to for sure get it running before the birds migrate back to the area in earnest.

While I watch for the birds to arrive and the plants to emerge, sometimes I am patient and appreciate the processes over which I have no control. Other times, my patience wanes. I am either so totally done with having to shovel snow yet another time. Or I am like a young child waiting for Christmas, anticipating getting up early and opening my stocking on Christmas morning.

Whether you are patient or impatient, perhaps the following quote, poem and time lapse video will offer new perspectives on emergence for you to contemplate as Spring makes itself known this year.

A seed knows how to wait. Most seeds wait for at least a year before starting to grow; a cherry seed can wait for a hundred years with no problem. What exactly each seed is waiting for is known only to that seed. Some unique trigger-combination of temperature-moisture-light and many other things is required to convince a seed to jump off the deep end and take its chance—to take its one and only chance to grow.

-Holly Jahrens, Lab Girl


I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers 
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn 
as it was taught, and if not how shall 
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, 
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows 
can do it and I am, well, 
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, 
am I going to get rheumatism, 
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing. 
And gave it up. And took my old body 
and went out into the morning, 
and sang.

- Mary Oliver