There’s a moment each spring, maybe it’s the first time we notice birdsong through an open window, the warmth of the sun on our faces, or the soft give of thawed earth underfoot, something shifts. The stillness of winter gives way to quiet stirring. We breathe a little deeper. We step outside more slowly. We begin to remember the rhythm of life outside our walls.
The Spring Equinox has come and gone, but the shifting of the season still feels deeply personal to us at Wildelore. Our roots are intertwined with the cycles of nature, and this time of year always invites reflection—on where we’ve been, where we’re going, and how we can return to balance in both our outer and inner worlds.
For mothers, especially those who spend time outdoors with little ones, spring doesn’t just mean more sunshine or melting snow. It’s a reminder that we, too, are part of nature. That the transitions we feel in our bodies and minds are mirrored in the earth around us. That we are allowed to move slowly, stretch gently, and step into the season in our own time.
As new life begins to stir beneath the surface, here’s what spring is teaching us about growth, motherhood, and coming home to ourselves.
Lesson 1: Growth Takes Time
We’re so used to rushing—rushing to be ready, to bounce back, to figure it all out. But spring doesn’t rush. The flowers don’t bloom the moment the snow melts, and the trees don’t burst into green the instant the days grow longer. The shift happens slowly. Unfolding one day, one degree, one bud at a time.
And the same is true for us.
Motherhood is full of seasons. Some are full of energy and joy, others feel like long winters of exhaustion and uncertainty. And yet, in each one, something is quietly growing. Even when we can’t see it. Even when it feels like nothing is happening at all.
We’re often told we should “bounce back” after birth, that we should be thriving, accomplishing, moving forward at full speed. But what if we allowed ourselves to grow like spring does? Slowly. Softly. With patience. With trust.
The world doesn’t expect a flower to bloom before it’s ready. Why should we expect that of ourselves?
This spring, we’re reminding ourselves—and you—that growth isn’t linear. And it doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs space, sunlight, and time.
Lesson 2: Light and Dark Exist in Balance
The Spring Equinox is the moment when day and night stand in perfect balance. For a brief pause in time, the earth holds equal space for light and shadow before the days begin to stretch longer.
It’s a powerful reminder: both parts belong.
In motherhood, it’s tempting to only talk about the joyful moments, the belly laughs, the snuggles, the wonder of watching your child explore the world. But there’s also the fatigue. The self-doubt. The moments that feel too heavy to carry. And those, too, are part of the experience.
We often think of balance as something we need to achieve, as if we can finally arrange our schedules, our emotions, and our energy just right. But real balance isn’t about perfection. It’s about honouring both sides of the story. The parts of you that are lit up, and the parts that are tired. The moments when you feel confident, and the ones where you feel completely undone.
Light and dark are not at odds with each other, they are two halves of a whole. And the equinox invites us to hold space for both, in nature and in ourselves.
So if today feels hard, that doesn’t mean you’re failing. If you’re in a season of shadows, it doesn’t mean the light won’t return. Both can exist. And both are worthy.
Lesson 3: Shedding the Old to Make Space for the New
Everywhere we look, nature is letting go. Snow melts into the soil. Last year’s leaves break down into compost. The trees stand bare for a little while longer, waiting for new buds to form.
There’s a quiet wisdom in this shedding, this willingness to release what’s no longer needed to make space for what’s coming.
We carry so much as mothers. The invisible load. The mental checklists. The shoulds and expectations. The stories we’ve picked up about who we should be, what we should look like, how we should mother.
What if this spring, we allowed ourselves to let some of it go?
Maybe you’re letting go of the idea that you have to do it all alone.
Maybe it’s the guilt that creeps in when you take time for yourself.
Maybe it’s the comparison, the belief that someone else is doing it better, more gracefully, more "right."
Whatever it is, you are allowed to lay it down.
Let the season be your mirror. Let the shedding be soft. And know that what grows next will have more space to root deeply.
Lesson 4: The Importance of Coming Back to Ourselves
There’s nothing quite like the first real spring day. The one where you open the windows wide, take your coffee outside, and remember that the world is still full of fresh air and light.
Spring calls us back, not just to the outdoors, but to ourselves.
After months of being tucked inside—physically and emotionally—we begin to unfold. We remember what it feels like to stretch our legs, to breathe deeply, to feel warmth on our skin. We remember that we are part of the natural world. That we don’t just walk through it, we belong to it.
For mothers, this reconnection is everything. In the whirlwind of caring for others, it’s easy to lose sight of the parts of ourselves that aren’t about mothering. The parts that crave quiet. Movement. Connection. Wildness.
Let spring be your invitation to come home to those parts.
You don’t need to hike a mountain (though you can). You don’t need to plan a full day in the woods (though that sounds dreamy). It can be as simple as stepping outside while your baby naps. Sitting in the grass with your toddler. Watching the clouds. Feeling the earth under your feet.
Small returns matter. They ground us. They remind us who we are beyond the laundry and the to-do lists. They remind us we’re not just surviving, we’re growing, too.
Embracing the Season of Transition
Spring is a season of in-between. Not quite winter, not yet summer. A little muddy, a little uncertain, but full of promise. And if that doesn’t describe motherhood, we don’t know what does.
We are always in transition. Always evolving. Always learning how to hold a little more light.
This season, we invite you to embrace the messiness. The unfolding. The moments of stillness and the ones that stretch you. Let yourself be where you are, not where you think you should be.
Let the earth teach you. Let it slow you down. Let it remind you that balance is not something to chase, it’s something to return to, again and again.
What Are You Letting Go Of? What Are You Calling In?
We’d love to hear from you. What are you shedding this spring? What are you planting in its place?
Whether it’s a mindset, a habit, or a quiet intention whispered in the morning light, we want to know. Comment on this blog or tag us on Instagram @explorewildelore to share your spring reflections, muddy hikes, and moments of balance.