Spring Equinox: Living in Rhythm with Renewal

The Spring Equinox arrives around March 21st, marking a moment of balance between light and dark. From this point forward, the days begin to grow longer, and we are gently ushered out of winter’s stillness and into a season of renewal.

Many of the symbols we associate with spring—eggs, rabbits, fresh greens, and baby animals—are reflected in modern celebrations like Easter. These traditions have deep roots in earlier seasonal festivals, honoring fertility, growth, and the return of life after winter. For centuries, these signs have helped humans recognize that it is time to reawaken, to begin again, and to trust that warmth and abundance are returning.

In the Pacific Northwest, the shift into spring can feel especially profound. The light changes first. The sun lingers a little longer in the evening, and mornings arrive with a softness that hints at warmth. After months of gray skies and early darkness, coming home to daylight feels like a gift. There is a subtle but powerful sense that we, too, can begin to shake off winter’s heaviness.

Humans have always looked to nature for cues about how to live. Paying attention to seasonal changes invites us into a deeper relationship with the world around us. It also helps us notice how those rhythms are shifting. In recent years, seasonal patterns have become less predictable, making it more challenging to rely on familiar timelines.

One way I stay connected is through a nature journal. Recording small observations—when buds appear, when birds return, when certain plants bloom—helps me track these subtle shifts. It keeps me engaged and aware, even when the seasons don’t behave as expected.

For example, I like to harvest the small pink buds of dog rose (Rosa canina) from a neighbor’s yard—with permission, of course. Over time, I’ve noticed that these buds can emerge weeks earlier or later depending on the winter. One year, I missed them entirely because I assumed they would arrive at the “usual” time. Now, I mark my calendar earlier and begin watching more closely. The practice of paying attention has become as meaningful as the harvest itself.

On my walks, I find myself asking simple questions:

How are the ferns weathering the winter?

Which trees are beginning to bud?

What insects have returned?

What birds are moving through the landscape?

These observations become a way of orienting myself in time—not by the calendar, but by the living world. To live with the seasons is to mirror what we see in nature. In spring, life pushes outward. Buds swell at the tips of branches, and green shoots emerge from the cold, dark earth. There is movement, expansion, and possibility.

This is a natural time for beginning. For new ideas. For fresh projects. For shifting habits and inviting change. Just as the earth reawakens, we are invited to do the same—gently, gradually, and in our own time.

Spring reminds us that renewal is not something we force. It is something we allow.

Karin Olsen is a healer, a seer and a teacher. She has been studying plants for more than 20 years, owning a herb shop and metaphysical store for 15 years. She has been a massage therapist for over 25 years. Karin learned her psychic medium skills from her mother and sees clients via zoom. She teaches classes on earth-based spirituality through Moonhill Mystery School in the Salish Sea area. In 2021 she earned a Master of Ecopsychology from Naropa University.