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I was texting with a friend on Sunday afternoon before I headed back into the church to make sure the livestream tech was ready for Evensong. 

My friend lives where winters are longer and much harder than they are in Victoria. He'd been out for a walk and saw signs that spring had come again. He texted me: "You know how little sun we get in winter. Being reminded it exists is a big deal." 

I do remember that feeling and I remember the deeper inhale of breath the first moment you see those signs ... even when you know it's too early for spring to really be there. 

Spring doesn't feel quite as much like a "big deal" now that I've lived with much shorter and milder winters for close to 20 years, but then I looked up.  

I felt my body breathe deeper as I noticed the blossoms on the tree near the lych gate to the memorial garden and the buds on the rhodo waiting for their time to open. 

Maybe the difference is that I've stopped paying attention to how much of a big deal it is. Maybe I just need to pause and see what is right in front of me. 

There is new life in the midst of reminders of how fragile we are and resurrection in the midst of death.