Spring awakens hope and renewal post-Hurricane Helene

I have never been more desperate and grateful for the arrival of spring.
 
Winter was long and unkind. Hurricane Helene dealt our beloved Blue Ridge Mountain communities a heavy-handed blow on Sept. 27, 2024. She washed away our autumn season of abundance, just as she stripped the colorful foliage from the trees and blew them over, toppling them like rows of dominoes. She left us bare and vulnerable right before the cold settled in.
 
People often ask, “Are things getting back to normal?”
 
We reply, “Things will never be the same.”
 
For those of us who know these mountains intimately, we mourn the way it was. We knew each and every bend in the river, whose banks are now unrecognizable, eroded and littered with storm debris. That boulder in the creek that always held colorful brook trout behind it… gone. Where did it go? New boulders, even bigger, are scattered about, remnants of the mountain above. And, oh, how I loved to sit between the roots of that 100+year-old white oak. It felt like it was hugging me back. Now, a fallen giant, brown and splintered in my backyard, a constant reminder every time I look out my kitchen window.
 
Just when I thought the dreariness might swallow me whole, the daffodils rose up, unfurled their petals, and turned their faces towards the sun. The forsythia blooms popped open like a million starry eyes opening up to see the world for the very first time. And the trout lilies sprang forth from the forest floor, just as they always do.

The beautiful spring came, and when nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.
— Harriet Ann Jacobs

This year, spring hits different. If hope were a color, it would be yellow. Bright and vibrant amongst the waning winter brown and gray. A harbinger of the lush green landscape to come. The light has finally caught up to the dark - and now the light is winning.
 
If you are struggling in the wake of the storm, go outside, I beg of you. There’s a beautiful, wild world out there, pining for your attention. Deserving of your devotion. Ready and waiting to hold space and heal. Breathe in deeply the fresh mountain air. Splash the cold creek water onto your face and begin again. Dig your hands into the earth and plant seeds.
 
I never doubted Mother Nature’s resiliency, and I don’t doubt ours. I know we will rise up, just as these daffodils found their way through the debris. It’s been a long, cold, dark winter. Let’s turn towards the light.
 
About the Author
Kelly Bruce is a Certified Nature and Forest Therapy Guide/Trail Consultant and the founder of Natural Wanders. She leads forest bathing and nature therapy walks in the Blue Ridge and Smoky Mountains of Western North Carolina, and the greater Asheville area. She leads monthly community forest bathing retreats, as well as private experiences. For more inspiration, follow along on Instagram and Facebook.

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