April in Vermont, in fact, in the Northern Hemisphere, harkens spring. While the opposite may be true in the Southern Hemisphere, October-like days, we are seeing signs of growth everywhere from longer days to flowers, shrubs and trees. In fact, one of the possible origins of the word, April, is the Latin Aprilis, suggesting opening.

As in other parts of the world, April kicks off with April Fools’ Day, often includes Easter, and tops it off with Earth Day, 4-22. This year, Easter was celebrated early in April which means the rest of the month seems slow to catch onto the notion that spring should be happening.
When actually, here in Vermont, we have a history of snow through May and even on rare occasions into June. And not just on the mountain tops!
One of my memories involves a sunny day in April when I uncharacteristically and impulsively played hooky with my kids, packed lunches, and spent the day on the mountain. Since soft snow slowed us down, I was able to ski terrain that was otherwise impossible for me, (of course my kids were just fine), and we had a full day of unstructured, simple joy.
Another memory was of a May Mother’s Day celebration that needed a last-minute change of venue. My children had planned a picnic for me – so sweet – but we needed to cancel the trek and move it to the hayloft of our barn. They pushed hay bales around to form a table and benches, decorated, and opened the hayloft doors out of which we could see snow falling heavily. Go figure. But it is a celebration I remember in detail when other more perfect plans have been filed in deeper vaults of memory.
As I write, it is chilly. Tomorrow will be the day of the (in)famous Mad River Triathlon – comprised of four events. A few weeks ago, mamma bears and their cubs began to explore the Valley in which I live. There is a mamma and 3 yearling cubs (and their den) quite close to my front door – less than 1,000’ I’d estimate. So far we have not met in person, but news traveled through the community. My dogs are on high alert and my grip on their leashes is unrelenting. (High alert is exhausting.)

My chocolate Lab, Sophie, sits at my big windows and barks at robins hopping around just outside. A little farther away, I spotted two ducks making their annual pilgrimage to our pond. Down in the field below our home there has been a pair of geese walking or simply basking in whatever sun appears.
As some of you know, my entire community was buzzing with construction activity from last spring through fall. As the snow melts this year, areas that had been excavated around our homes groan for attention. On this morning’s walk, Sophie ran off to inspect something – it was a huge dump of topsoil. Yay, help is on the way. And soon I will be able to see what I can reconstruct on my patio, where I might add some plantings, and how I might bring back my small but beloved sanctuary.
Lizzie, my yellow Lab, is finally settling and has accepted that, while Sophie roams off leash, she must remain on. She does not complain (especially since she gets her own time with me and blocks of ball play on the basketball court now that we’ve thawed) and is often simply confused about what Sophie might be up to. Her latent sudden bolt can catch me by surprise – but it’s only a chipmunk or squirrel.
Perhaps what I love most about April here, though, is the subtlety. One must make the effort to look closely. But signs of growth are happening. Subtle signs indeed. And perhaps that is the lesson of the month. While speed and efficiency are good in their rightful environment, taking time to pause and to notice may bring unanticipated pleasure.

Someone dear to me gifted me with a small book about this year of the Yang Fire Horse according to Traditional Chinese Medicine. The author writes about these April weeks: “Growth begins gently. Energy turns outward, but vision matters more than speed.”* We are in the season of the element Wood, according to TCM. Observing new growth in nature, budding trees and warming earth, it makes sense to relate the outside world to our inner being as we emerge from winter’s shorter days and quiet times of renewal. It is no accident that many of us are motivated, filled with a sense of anticipation and encouraged by possibilities. All that remains is for us to put into action developing energies.
I will close these thoughts with a quote from my gift which, I believe, says it all!

“Growth now has somewhere to come from …let the Horse find its stride.”*
*Traditional Chinese Medicine, Yang Fire Horse Lunar Health Planner 2026, Lindsay Herrara Kaplan, L.Ac., Achieving Health, LLC














In the world around us, new growth is evident. Geography informs the weeks and months in which this happens, but in any event, green appears – leaves on trees, grass pushing up from the soil, bulbs creating their hopeful display and buds opening to the sun. 
Yes, the world is a bit of a mess. Yes, we face daily challenges in many aspects of our lives. Yes, we feel helpless at times. And yes we really haven’t much to say about the changing seasons – they will happen one way or another**. So perhaps, the best thing is to let go, align with what this particular season suggests, and allow the growth to happen. If we are motivated to creatively look forward, let us follow those plans with good energy. If we are able to reframe our challenges and look at them – not as Pollyannas – but proactively, well then, let us get on with the business (and privilege) of problem-solving.
Last night I stood with a much-loved family member to watch a boys’ lacrosse game. Approaching severe thunder storms mingled with intense competition as the two teams played a grudge match. Yet at one point, my companion said ‘Look!’ There across the sky was a complete rainbow. It was breathtaking.


This year I urge us each to adopt a morning practice, dedicate time each day to fitness, adhere to the principle of progressive overload as we strengthen our precious muscles, step outside our comfort zones, experience new things, nurture enthusiasm and positivity, read words of wisdom or words that make us think our own thoughts and form our own conclusions, eat well, sleep well, practice self-care in its highest and most accessible form, get outdoors daily no matter the weather, connect with friends, honor family, and incorporate modest amounts of breath work into each day learning to reduce stress and to be, according to Thich Nhat Hanh, present. Oh my, this list could go on and on!
What do you think of this from Parker Palmer? “Self-care is never a selfish act—it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others.”
The Energy of June is light and bright and full of promise. Daylight hours reach completion, personal energy and enthusiasm run high, and a celebratory sense is almost palpable. To those of us who never quite abandon the academic calendar, we intuitively respond to the notion that graduations/end of school year and summer vacations greet us fresh every morning. And, speaking of mornings, we might be fortunate enough to wake up to birdsong, catch the morning dew on the grass, and note little shoots and buds appearing in our gardens, and wonder at those that have come to rich, full bloom!
Mind you, I am writing from Vermont where we are a bit slower to arrive at the threshold of summer, but perhaps our delicate spring season makes the wait more worthwhile. Though many here flourish in snow, others relish the gorgeous days at the other side of the year’s life cycle.
That being said, I circle back to the academic concept of a year and to the many meanings of teacher/student. I encourage each of us to pause to consider that we, in our own individual ways, are always students. As research demonstrates, the best way to learn is to turn around and teach what we are learning to another. Therefore I suggest that we are all teachers and that teachers are always students. (talk about circling!)
June. With pearls as birthstones and roses as the June flower, what’s not to love? Long ago someone somewhere (probably ancient Italy?) suggested that June signify Juno, an important and powerful deity (counterpart to Greek Hera), and queen of a bunch of gods, goddess, etc. Not surprisingly, Latin could be the root with lunius associated with this month. And as so often happens with etymology, lunius segues to Juno.
Venturing into the animal kingdom, (are bugs animals?), there’s the junebug. You’ve probably heard this: “all over it like a duck on a junebug,” which refers to doing something with great eagerness. In my area, babies are showing up everywhere. So far we’ve only encountered six adult bears, but one was a mamma with triplets. Uncomfortable but exciting. And, after a brief territorial dispute of five geese, two won out the rights to the pond I see from my large windows and ultimately five little ones joined the community. June is a month of proliferation.
No, I have nothing profound to say and certainly nothing that can pass as original thinking. But I have been thinking. A lot. Especially as I walk through the woods with scattered attention looking ahead and in the trees (yes in the trees) for a bear sighting (as that’s where they go when they hear my Sophie) and trying not to trip on the tennis ball that my Lizzie continually drops just as I am about to step.

Life happens. (Please feel free to substitute another four-letter word.) It’s been a challenging 6 months for absolutely everyone I know. I won’t go into detail but, yes, I know you and you have had it as well! To give a nod to the glass half full, perhaps the challenges are also helping foster growth. We may need to think about this or smother a groan but if we look at the world around us, we might plug in for a little personal growth as well.
Growth is apparent everywhere in nature as plants, bees, mushrooms, ferns, trees, slugs and of course the wicked woods flies all flourish and thrive! But it is all growth. May we grow as well.

*At this point in my writing, I reached back in my memory for something I had read by Rabbi Harold Kushner along the lines of answering the age-old question how could tragedy happen and where was God? His answer was that God was seen in the human response to tragedy, the love and generosity of those reaching out to help. As I searched for the exact quote I stumbled upon Rabbi Kushner’s obituary. I was stunned to learn that he had passed on April 28, 2023. Since reading “Living a Life That Matters,” (Anchor Books, A Division of Random House, Inc, 2001,2002) a book of his that I treasure, I have been a devoted fan. When a friend gave me a signed copy of one of his books, she proclaimed that I had found “my Rabbi!” May I suggest that you find a book title of his that peaks your interest and spend some reading time with this wonderful man? I share here from Ralph Waldo Emerson: “To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know that even one life has breathed easier because you lived – that is to have succeeded.” Oh, Rabbi Kushner, you have succeeded.