Hints of Spring (2.18.25)

Yesterday was a mix of endings, beginnings, and an observation of how intertwined things often seem to be.

I finished revising the draft of my book yesterday!  Eek! This felt like a huge step in the process, one I’ve been working on diligently for the last six weeks.   There have been many, many hours of cutting, moving, adding, thinking, crying, smiling, laughing - it's been a lot. :)

When I wrapped up the last revision, I hopped in the shower - much needed since I sat down to write after a trail run and was in that seat for hours.  As the water ran, so did tears.  I couldn’t tell you exactly how I felt except to say that it was a release.  I think that’s what happens when we feel so many feelings at the same time.  We don’t have words, but the body wants to express them anyway.  I have used so many of my words in the pages of the book, for a moment, I felt like I didn’t have any left. 

Either way, it felt like a huge exhale.  Time to relax for the rest of the day. :) 

Since it was a holiday, Gabby and Jason were both home, as well as my brother in law.  They played cards for a bit, and I worked on a puzzle. And then we did a little gardening.  

We had the beginnings of a peach tree to plant!

If you are local to the bay area, you may also love to head out towards Brentwood in the summertime to pick all the delicious stone fruit.  Plums, nectarines, peaches, cherries!  Highlight of early summer, especially with grandparents in tow.  

If you’ve been around this newsletter community since the summer, you may remember that we lost Gary, Gabby’s Papa Boots, unexpectedly this summer.  It was a shock to our whole family, and in the wake of the loss, Jason found a way to create something beautiful.  He found a company that basically composts the remains of your loved one and then sends you some of the soil so you can use it wherever you like.  A way to bring new life from the old.  

We had just lost Gary when Gabby had the idea of growing a peach tree from of the one peach seeds leftover from our pickings.  When she brought it up, Jason remembered they had a peach tree in their yard in Texas growing up…it felt perfect.  So after a little research, her and Jason set it to germinate in the fridge.

Today, we planted the peach seed.  It’s growing.  We mixed some of Gary’s compost in the regular soil, and started imagining where we’ll repot it once it grows bigger.  It’ll take time, like a lot of growth does.  Grief doesn't ever really go away, but it can change shape.  We can bring it with us, letting it remind us of the love we had, and the love that remains.

I was reflecting that this summer was also when I started the draft of my book.  I wrote about grief, and loss, and hope and joy, and leadership and healing.  It’s been a process.  It too has needed some time.  

As we finished up nestling this peach seed and little bud amongst the soil, I noticed how many weeds had started sprouting everywhere in our yard thanks to the abundant rain of the last weeks.  We started clearing some out, careful to grab by the roots.  And to our surprise, we noticed the buds of last year’s crocus and tulips, hidden among the weeds.  Some already sturdy and quite tall, and some just starting to emerge.  

Hints of spring just waiting to be discovered. 

The revising I’ve poured myself into over the last two months is so much like weeding.  Some sections needed to be pulled up by the root completely, while others needed just a little more space to breathe.  Some needed more soil and love, and others needed to be replanted into other parts of the draft.  

But they both look pretty good now.  Space has been cleared.  Shoots are sprouting.  

New life is emerging, and we hold space for what we’ve lost.  

It all belongs in the same mix.  

Reflection Questions

1. Where is there evidence of new growth in your life?

2. Are there any weeds in your life that need to be pulled to make room for new blooms to come through?

3. How are you holding space for what has been lost in your life?

Lots of love,

Jess

If you're navigating a season of loss and new growth and want a sacred space to process it all, 1:1 coaching offers gentle, grounded support.