Spring Smells of Potential

Whiffs of new beginnings are in the air.

Our fig tree, March 19, 2025

I’ve been feeling it for a few weeks now. There’s something in the air letting me know we’re in transition. Yes, yes, I know calendar-wise here in the northern hemisphere we’ve “officially” started the spring equinox, but I could sense a shift taking place well before the demarcation.

Slowly I can see the green buds beginning to appear on trees, and hear the birds chirping a bit more frolickingly. But it’s the smells in the air that give me the first clue things are changing.

The scents are subtle, quiet, humble, even shy at first, as if whispering in my ear. And they present themselves in pockets, as individual notes here and there. But with each warming day, I sense them getting just a little bit louder, opening up more, and gently blending into chords. These are the first whiffs, evidence that spring is upon us. Here where I live that means a simple blend of earthy, green, and floral notes.

Nature can remind us of the cycles all living beings take part in. Life isn’t stagnant, but rather constantly evolving, each season a preparation for the next. To me that’s something to take comfort in during these difficult times. Spring is an invitation to start anew, to experience the promise of new beginnings.

Potential is defined as the latent qualities, or abilities, that may be developed and lead to future success or usefulness. For me it’s simpler than that; it’s the anticipation of the possible. It’s the excitement of not knowing, but feeling a sense of joy in the hope.

In my backyard, all around me, I witness the potential of what’s to come. Our fig tree (pictured above) is showing her first green buds. The potential of sweetly delicious fig fruit in my salad makes me giddy at the thought.

Our orange tree, March 19, 2025.

The lemon and orange trees are also beginning to reveal their white blossoms. The smell is subtly sweet and shy right now, so requires close-up sniffing for the full experience. Yet the potential of tart, juicy lemons to make lemonade in the summer, as well as sweet oranges to make fresh-squeezed juice in the morning, makes me delight in what’s to come.

Our local park, March 15, 2025.

But probably one of my favorite smells this time of year is the scent of freshly-cut grass wafting over from our local park up the hill. That sharp, green, herbal smell is my truest indication that new things are on the horizon. The potential of lush fields to frolic in, and spend lazy summer days on a blanket reading a good book, makes me joyful in the knowing of what’s possible.

These are early days, the air is still quite cool. But the first whiffs of spring tell me there is a lot to look forward to. In the meantime, with each day that’s lighter and warmer, I’ll take a moment to delight in the scents that spring continues to reveal.

Here’s a simple 1-minute smelling exercise I like to do this time of year that I invite you to try out.