Spring arrived late here this year, stuttering, reluctant, cold, and veiled in rain. But then the sun peeked out, and on a warmer breeze, the new season quietly drifted in. Almost unnoticed, the blossoms began to appear.

Amid this slow unfolding, we’ve been hosting an IFS retreat. It’s wholehearted work, my hands are busy, and my days are full. Still, I always find a moment to slip away for a stroll. Among the delicate blossoms unfurling in the orchard, I’m reminded that nature unfolds in its own time. And so can we.

Of course, I know this. I can’t wait to talk about it with our guests. To tell them it’s all about patience, timing, and trust. Like I’ve mastered it. But honestly? I catch myself wishing the blossoms would hurry up just a little so they’d look better in the photos for this blog post. And I’ve been known to gush about the art of slowing down while speed-walking to catch the perfect light on those blossoms. I still want to rush what’s meant to unfold. And so, nature keeps teaching me.

SOFT EMERGENCE

Autumn is often associated with wabi sabi, the Japanese art of embracing imperfection and impermanence, but spring, too, especially in its early, hesitant days, embodies the same spirit. This spring did not come bursting in with confidence and the buds haven’t rushed into bloom. They slowly, vulnerably open, almost shy.

It’s a reminder that change doesn’t need to be sudden or dramatic. It can happen gradually, one gentle step at a time. Just as the blossoms don’t force their blooming, we too can soften into who we are, without hurrying. Small shifts. One bud at a time.

EXPLORING INNER LANDSCAPES

The estate reflects this. The house stands calmly, holding its wise presence, its old walls offering stories to those who care to listen. The giant cedars do the same, steady, grounded, deeply still. And the meadows, sprinkled with tiny wildflowers, seem to echo the inner landscapes we’re exploring here. We get curious about what’s unfolding inside, through deep conversations with your inner parts, playful collage-making, and tuning in to the messages our dreams want to share.

For now, it’s back to work and chatting with our lovely guests. Still, I’ll keep stealing little moments, just in case something decides to bloom when I’m not looking.