I am prefacing this post with a warning. This one comes from deep in my heart and is personal. It is written behind a pint of good IPA and the mist of tears. We all go through transitions. This Spring of 2012 is one of those for me. The other side is sunny, so I thought I would share.

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I remember the phone call I received in December of 1981 as if it were yesterday. (Cliche I know, but accurate.) The caller was my grandmother; the toughest women, nay person, I have ever known. She was one of those individuals that is always right, even when wrong. With time, she was always proven correct. Her artistry lay in the ability to comfort you as she was telling you the truth of your errors. Her voice on this particular night was no less stoic than ever. It did not betray the message she was about to deliver.

You see, it is Spring here in the Rockies. And as the calendar dates associated with the end of the year always fan the embers of reminiscing, so to does the change in seasons from Winter to Spring. One of the natural catalysts of this eruption of memories are meristems; the new buds and growth that emerge at the end of branches and roots and along the branching points of plants. I suppose what gets me most is the vulnerability pushing through the tough exterior.

The conversation I had with Grandma on that December night was about death, specifically hers. After years of withstanding the life restricting pain of lupus she had decided to call it quits. This woman, who had for many years drilled into me that anything was possible, whose lessons on life and living still reverberate, whose tough exterior at times still bolster me when I am in pain, was throwing in the towel and finally admitting she could not handle it anymore. And I have always respected her choice. I received a call the following morning, while sitting in 10th grade Spanish class, that she had died peacefully. (I would later learn she had overdosed on morphine.) She was 52 years old.

Meristems are specialized cells located at the end of plant roots, at branching points and at the ends of branches. During the winter these cells lay dormant. The abiotic cues of longer days (read more energy providing sunlight) and warmer average daily temperatures kick the reproduction of these cells into action. The result is new buds that will turn into new leaves or bigger root systems to absorb more water. Over the course of a few weeks these new leaves and root systems become the growth required for plant survival.

The leaves are where photosynthesis takes place. This process converts light energy into chemical energy (in the form of sugars). Thus, out of the tough protective structures of bark and wood comes the life capturing, and fragile structure necessary for persistence.

The following year has been one of challenges and rewards. The challenging side has been associated with developing a durable and tough exterior (not my strength). Graduate school, relationships, and self-doubt have fostered times of uncomfortable self-assessment and the desire to alter certain patterns. The reward side has been the results of putting in the effort at listening to myself and the willingness to learn about the areas of needed internal growth. The concrete products of this effort are the blog that you are reading, a National Science Foundation teaching fellowship, a trip to explore my life-long desire to learn to surf, and the confidence to turn up the heat on a few other small projects that have been sitting on back burners. Yet, as this first week of April slides into its weekend, I am realizing that the effort at being constantly strong has been depleted, and as my grandmother did so many years ago, I am throwing in the towel on maintaining that exterior and instead I am letting the soft newness dominate.

Spring has penetrated and is stoking the fires of emergence. I am welcoming the exposure of a new vulnerability. The bark is still there to prevent accidental desiccation and to lend support but the predominant color is of new leaves and energy absorbing chlorophyl. And while I occasionally have to fend off curious and hungry squirrels, the emergence is beginning to expand and dominate. The required nutrients are there for the taking.