Have you ever had a hobby or activity you were passionate about? Something that consumed every free minute in the day? Perhaps it was participating in a sport; playing an instrument; mastering a video game; tinkering on vehicles; or concocting scrumptious meals for family and friends. Maybe it was something like hiking, embroidery, reading or fishing. It could be anything that brings purposeful enjoyment to the days, the months, and the seasons.

Photo by Dee Menear

Then one day, for some reason or another, the passion is put away. Other priorities take over and it doesn’t get visited as often; or at all.

Every once in a while, you catch a glimpse of it and it evokes a renewed desire to dive in. But it never happens. It just sits there like a forgotten trinket getting dusty on a high, unreachable shelf.

Personally, the last few years have seemingly been filled with a never-ending cycle of work, sleep, errands, and chores. There has been very little adventure and even fewer memory-making moments. Day after day has been spent pushing forward to the next day.

Lather, rinse, repeat …

The rut was deep and there seemed to be never-ending storms that brought deep, murky mud that made the road even rockier.

There have feigned attempts at making time for the activities that brought peace and the moments that made life an adventure. Walks in the woods were scheduled and days with friends were planned.

Nothing ever came to fruition.

Plans were placed on the shelf, next to long-forgotten hobbies and once favored pastimes.

Nature has sent a gentle reminder recently that the time has come to push the play button on the paused soundtrack of my world. Enough so, that I’ve taken notice.

Most mornings find me sitting comfortably on my preferred section of the living room couch. It is a time to reflect and prepare for the day. From this vantage point, I can view the critters that enjoy my backyard.

This time of year, chickadees flutter from tree to tree as they visit freshly filled bird feeders. Squirrels and chipmunks leave their forest homes and scamper on top of the snowpack to take advantage of any fallen seed.

Recently, the late winter sun has shifted enough that its morning rays’ stream through the window and brightly illuminate my spot on the couch. The warmth of the early morning sun as it beats through the glass is noticeable, even on the coldest days. The blinding light, however, is distracting enough that I usually settle into a much less comfortable seat in a duller section of the room.

This morning, I opted to stay and let the warmth envelop me. The daybreak light wasn’t permitted to become the distraction it was the morning before.

In fact, it was appreciated and welcomed.

Later, I strapped on my snowshoes to tromp through freshly fallen snow to finish the chore of tapping maple trees.

As I put the taps in place, I was delighted to find my timing could not have been better planned. Sweet sap flowed from trees that had been dormant since shedding their colorful leaves months ago.

The sun had warmed the trees enough to coax them into resuming their assigned endeavor.

The trees, the sun, and even the mud pooling in newly formed ruts on the frost-heaved dirt roads know this season is coming to an end.

It is time to clean the cobwebs off abandoned interests and lost joys.

It is time to resume.