Waiting for Spring.

Waiting for spring is its own quiet season. It’s the pause between endurance and bloom—the soft inhale after a long exhale. The days a little longer, the light lingers, and even when the air is still cold, something inside begins to thaw. Spring isn’t just a date on the calendar; it’s a feeling that arrives gently, often before the flowers do.

There’s beauty in this waiting. It teaches patience, restraint, and trust. Nothing rushes in nature, yet everything arrives on time. In this in-between, we tidy our inner rooms, shed what no longer serves us, and make space for new intentions. Like buds beneath the soil, growth happens quietly, unseen, preparing for its moment.

Waiting for spring invites softness, slower mornings, warmer tea, lighter thoughts. It’s choosing hope without forcing joy, optimism without pressure. You don’t have to bloom yet. You’re allowed to rest, to gather strength, to let the light find you gradually.

And when spring finally steps in, it won’t ask if you’re ready. It will simply arrive fresh, forgiving, and full of promise. Until then, waiting is not empty time. It’s becoming. 

— Rominah.com