Episode 19: Why You Can’t Find Spring (And where it’s actually hiding)

It’s never been lost. It’s been quiet, and there all along.

Episode Summary: When a heavy late-winter snow split a juniper tree in Samantha’s yard, it didn't just change the view from her laundry room door—it revealed a hidden entanglement that had been there all along. In this episode, we explore the "narrowing" effect of winter and the frustration of waiting for a season that feels late.

Through the lens of a lost wedding diamond found in the most unlikely place, Samantha reflects on the paradox of finding: why do the things we search for most desperately only appear when we finally stop the hunt? Whether you’re buried under sixteen inches of snow or just feeling "weighed down and Vitamin D deprived," this episode is an invitation to step to the doorway—not as an exit, but as an entrance.

In this episode, we’re talking about:

How a split tree revealed a hidden invasive vine (and a deeper view of the yard).

Why we can't find the things we obsessively search for.

The "shimmer" that lives inside the winter grit.

Thanks for listening!

February can feel exhausting. The days are slowly getting longer, but energy still feels low.

In this reflective winter episode, I explore how cold weather doesn’t necessarily drain us — it simply reduces our range. Like an electric car in winter, we may travel the same roads… just not as far on a single charge.

After a fresh snowfall in my backyard, an unexpected female Eastern Towhee reminded me that even when life looks frozen, it is still moving underneath.

This episode explores:

Late winter fatigue and seasonal energy shifts

The quiet accumulation of daylight in February

The subnivian layer — life beneath the snow

Battery metaphors, reduced range, and rest

Why hibernation isn’t weakness — it’s strategy

Noticing what still functions

If you’re feeling low-power this winter, this episode is an invitation to conserve, recharge, and trust the slow return of light.

Have you ever watched a loading screen and felt your pulse pick up just a little? The spinning wheel. The buffering bar. That quiet instruction: Please don’t close this window.

We’re uncomfortable when we can’t see progress. We want confirmation. A percentage. A sign that the wait means something.

Late winter feels like that.

This week’s episode explores that gap — the space between what’s happening and what’s visible. The quiet beginnings that don’t announce themselves. The kind of progress that offers no confirmation screen, no percentage bar, no green checkmark.

Spring doesn’t arrive all at once.It loads slowly.And so do we.

You can’t recognize almost-spring unless you’ve lived the whole way here. Through the dim light, the long nights, the repetition of cold mornings.

The accumulated weight of it. The sequence. The repetition.

Only then can you recognize what almost-spring really means.

Red-winged blackbird recording courtesy of: Stanislas Wroza, XC1021377. Accessible at www.xeno-canto.org/1021377.

License: Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0

Episode 16: The Art of Dialing In

Sometimes what you've been searching for has been right in front of you all along. You just weren't tuned to the right frequency.

After years of trying to hand-feed chickadees, a red-breasted nuthatch landed on my palm. I'd been trying to feed the wrong bird.

In this episode, I explore what it means to dial in instead of starting over. Why native plants struggle in an instant-hit world. And why attention often matters more than effort.

In This Episode:

The moment a nuthatch finally landed (and why it took years)

Why we're measuring slow work with fast metrics

The difference between buttons and dials

What native plant gardening teaches us about presence

The invitation: notice what's already working

Mentioned in This Episode:

Episode 15: Snow Regrets: I Never Learned So Much From a Bird

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Email: flutterbymeadows@gmail.com

I went looking for one bird on an early morning beach walk... I found a different one. And somehow, it taught me far more than the bird I was chasing.

Last week, I wondered whether a trip away from home might leave me without words. Without the familiar inspiration of my known surroundings. Not just writer’s block. But writer’s drought.

Instead, the trip handed me the story.

Sometimes, what we’re looking for isn’t found by chasing. It’s found by showing up, paying attention, and letting the moment arrive on its own.

What happens when you stop rushing the moment…and let it come to you?

Interestingly, the story was swirling around in my notebook for 20 days, I just needed to turn to the page to see it. On January 7th I wrote: “You don’t find the thing by chasing it. You find it by being present when it arrives.” January 28th, the story finally surfaced. Here is the companion piece I wrote a few years back.

In this episode, Samantha reflects on the unexpected surprises that life presents, drawing from her experiences with nature and the changing weather. She recounts a moment in Iceland where a cab driver expressed his preference for surprises over forecasts, which resonated with her as she navigated a snowstorm back home. This led her to ponder the familiar things in life that often go unnoticed, like the Blue Jay, a bird she had overlooked despite its everyday presence. Through her journey in bird photography, she learned that what we perceive as familiar can often be deceiving, revealing deeper layers of beauty and complexity when we take the time to truly observe.

Episode 13: The Engagement Calendar — And How to Build a Relationship with Nature This Year

What are you already in the middle of? This week, I spent a day away from my birds and realized something: the relationships that matter aren't the ones we're trying to build from scratch in January—they're the ones we've already been living and forgot to notice.

In this episode, I talk about:

Why missing one day with my backyard birds felt like breaking a promise I didn't know I'd made

The difference between "planting natives to save pollinators" and creating conditions for life to return when it's ready

How belonging is harder to sell than saving—but why it's what actually sustains us

Why wildlife gardening isn't about decorating a space, but entering a relationship

The worn path to my feeder and what it taught me about staying with something long enough to become part of the pattern

If you're tired of New Year's pressure to add more, do more, be more—this episode is about recognizing what you're already part of and choosing to stay with it.

What's the tiny ritual that starts your day? What rhythm, when you broke it, made you feel a little lost?

Those are the things worth returning to in 2026.

Not because they're new. Because they're true.

Related links:

Episode 12: Goal-Setting Theater vs. Nature's Quiet Rehearsal

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Episode 12 | Goal-Setting Theater vs. Nature’s Quiet Rehearsal:

January doesn’t ask for reinvention. It asks for patience.

Maybe what January is really asking is not what you’ll become, but what you notice while you’re becoming it.

January often arrives with a false starting line — resolutions, reinvention, and pressure to begin again. But nature keeps a different rhythm.

This episode is not about:

- resolutions

- productivity

- self-improvementIt is about learning to read the season you’re in.

In Episode 12, I reflect on moonlight and unfinished darkness, winter birds pairing up, and an unplanned New Year’s Day walk on a windswept New Jersey beach. No goals. No lifers. Just noticing. Because maybe January isn’t for becoming someone new—it’s for paying attention to what’s already unfolding.