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The Glen in spring offers many gifts and hints at things to come in the season, and converts the old to the new. Here, mushrooms line a rotting log in the Glen. (Photos by Aaron Zaremsky)

The Glen in spring offers many gifts and hints at things to come in the season, and converts the old to the new. Here, mushrooms line a rotting log in the Glen. (Photos by Aaron Zaremsky)

Gifts of the Glen – A Spring Essay

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Winter is gloomy. Yet, statistics show, people in the throes of hopelessness (clinical depression,etc…) are least likely to do something drastic during that cold, bitter time of the year. The riskiest point on the calendar for someone on the brink is the beginning of spring, when the weather warms up and the flowers poke out. Why is that? Maybe it’s because the burdens of life are suddenly rekindled? Isn’t spring the time for new love and new beginnings? Perhaps there is a comfort in clinging to old habits, memories, and relationships that gets ripped away at the beginning of the season. It can be traumatic.

Moving on to lighter things though — the Glen, when the paths are not boggy swamps, offers many gifts and hints at things to come in the season: flowers, greenery, and blooming mushrooms among other delights. There is still a glut of bare tree limbs and ice scarred rocks, but the views are nice and the water flows with an invigorating power. Take a stroll by your lonesome and you won’t feel so alone with the birds and the wind. Take as many people as you want for company otherwise but be respectful of the area.

If there is something spring offers that other seasons do not, it is a sense of innocence. Winter is bleak, summer is over-saturated, and autumn is busy but confined. Spring is crisp; it’s light. Babies are born everywhere. We hammer in the notion that it’s all about “new beginnings” this time of the year and there is truth to that. The child-like innocence of this new season touches us and the sights and sounds clear our minds unlike any other time of the year.

The images I take during my forays into the wilds (if our tiny nature preserve can be called that) provide a visual complement to what I am saying here. I hope that by viewing these images and the ones to come, I can tie in a visual metaphor to what I extrapolate within this written essay. If I venture out again in the coming weeks, there will be brighter and greener images on their way.

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