Winter Aconite: Dancing with Possibility

A morning walk takes us along a stretch of Mill Creek, the picturesque south-central Pennsylvania waterway that wends its way from broad slopes of Welsh Mountain across Lancaster County to the Conestoga River. Our chosen trail is predictably muddy, and the landscape is, at first glance, limited to the browns and grays of a snowless February weekday. The sky is mild and open blue, however, and closer examination of this corner of the world reveals cursory stirrings of spring. We detour from the lower trail, cross a covered bridge, and climb a cobbled rise to see what we've been hoping to see: a swath of winter aconite, blooming sunshine yellow in seeming celebration across the hillside. — B.

Before

high canopy

unfurls to long shadow,

winter aconite entertains

joyful

sunlight—

tiny golden cup-blooms dancing

with possibility—

in time fading

to earth.

— B. 

Winter aconite is an early awakener, blooming across most of North America in late winter when other plants are still only dreaming of spring. A member of the buttercup family, winter aconite grows in clumps, a solitary yellow flower surrounded by a collar of dark green leaves. The plant stores up enough energy in the fall to burst up through cold winter ground, even making its way through a cover of snow. The flower stays closed, looking more like a bud, on colder days. But with even a small signal from the sun, the flower transforms, and the petals unfurl and reach upward. Like a loving friend who reaches out when most needed, winter aconite extends itself to others on winter days. It offers a critical source of nectar and pollen to hungry insects who may have woken up early from hibernation. For us, it is a welcome burst of green and gold in the winter landscape— and a promise for warmer days ahead. — D.

To serve its purpose in the world, winter aconite must carefully balance energy— conserving resources and extending them as needed. You might consider this while reflecting on your own use of energy. Grab a sheet of paper and something to write with. Draw a circle in the middle of the paper— this circle represents you. Draw another circle anywhere else on the paper and label it with the name of someone important in your life. Now draw an arrow from your circle to the other circle. This arrow represents the energy you give to this person. Make the arrow wider and darker to best represent the amount or intensity of energy you feel you expend. Now draw an arrow from the other person's circle to yours. This represents the energy you feel you receive from this person. Make the arrow darker and wider to represent the amount or intensity of the energy you feel that you gain. 

Now step back and reflect on the drawing. What thoughts come up as you see this representation? Note that relationships fluctuate over time and context: what is true for you today may change. It is also not necessarily bad to expend more energy in a relationship than you receive— or vice versa. The more important point of this experience is to notice the way you are currently balancing and maintaining your energy reserves. You might add more circles and arrow to your drawing to represent other relationships. You could also add circles for different activities in your life. What feeds your energy and what saps it? Do you use your energy in ways that align with your values, or are there adjustments you'd like to make? — D.

  from The Winter Aconite Fairy

  Up, up, I climbed,

  And here am I.

  How wide the earth! How great the sky!

  O wintry world,

  See me, awake!

  Spring calls, and comes; 'tis no mistake.

 — Cicely Mary Barker, 1895-1973, English artist and author