I can almost see it now—the full circle, the turning of the wheel.
Nine months I have been living here in this beautiful, isolated pocket of the world.
Nine months of expanding my comfort zone.
Nine months of holding the contrast between Northern California and this quiet alpine village of about 166 people.
At times, I have felt so wildly out of my comfort zone…
that the only place left to land was in simply being myself.
I am acutely aware of where I came from and the experiences that shaped me.
And now, I get to experience something entirely different—
a way of life that offers a humbling and beautiful reflection of the human experience.
Our little village has one tiny grocery store—
and I have learned with time, it has everything I need. (I am fairly certain that when I go into Good Earth in Mill Valley or San Ansemlo that I might think I died and went to heaven.)
A gas station that doubles as a local meeting place for coffee and conversation.
A small library, hardly frequented, filled with books in German and Romansh that I hope one day to read.
Farmers. A church. A vet.
A soccer field that becomes an ice rink in winter.
And a hotel and restaurant with a pizzeria that has, without exaggeration, the best pizza I have ever had.
In a small mountain village, ordering takeout pizza feels like the greatest luxury.
For days—or sometimes an entire week—I don’t leave this village.
I imagine most of the locals don’t either.
Life has become quieter.
Simpler.
And I live in what feels like one of the safest places in the world.
We don’t lock our doors.
We rarely see anything unfamiliar.
Diversity?
You mean tourists visiting from Germany or Austria… or somewhere nearby?
None.
It’s strange coming from Marin County, where even there we argue it isn’t quite diverse enough.
And this is not to say one is better than the other.
But diversity brings change— and change challenges ways of being that have existed for generations and generations, especially in places that are not easy to reach, not widely traveled to, not constantly shifting.
Being here has made me reflect on that in a way I never had before.
But more than anything… I have noticed the light.
The way it moves.
The way it returns.
Over the months, I’ve watched it trace new paths along the mountain ridges—
shifting, stretching, slowly reclaiming the valley.
In winter, the sun dipped low and disappeared early, leaving everything in a cold, icy blue by early afternoon.
Now, it rises higher.
It reaches places that haven’t felt sunlight in months.
Trails that lived in shadow are visible again.
And I found myself wondering—is this what Morgan Llywelyn meant in The Horse Goddess when she wrote of the Blue Mountains?
And then… the birds.
Everything winters here.
Everything went quiet in a way I had never experienced before.
A stillness so complete it almost startled my nervous system.
And then, on March 11th, walking through the woods…
I heard it.
Birds.
Singing like an alarm clock for the earth.
And I cried.
I actually got down on my knees and wept.
Life was returning.
And I remember thinking—this must look so dramatic.
But for a California girl, used to green winters, muddy trails, and surfing in the cold Pacific alongside ocean life… To witness a place where nature truly shuts down— and then begins again…
It moved something deep inside me.
Spring is coming.
Or maybe it’s already here.
I’m not quite sure yet.
Spring looks different at 5,500 feet.
There is still snow covering most of the earth.
The ground that is exposed is light brown, soft, wet from the melt.
Is this their spring?
I think it is.
Because if I look closely—something is changing.
Every day, the snow retreats a little more.
The brown grass begins to shift…Is that green?
There is still snow in the forecast this week.
Temperatures will drop to freezing again.
But it’s not the same cold as mid-January.
There is light now.
And that changes everything.
What does it do to the brain, to the nervous system, to live surrounded by white for half the year?
And then suddenly—green.
The frequency of life.
The signal of fertile ground.
I can feel it in myself.
I have been here since July 2025.
I know what summer is like here…But do I?
To truly know a place, I think you have to live its full cycle.
To notice the small details.
The subtle changes.
The way it changes you.
So come Autumn… I’ll let you know.
But for now—
I know the path of the sun from July to March.
How it rises over the mountains and pours golden light into the valley.
I know how that light changes—its texture, its quality, its intensity.
I can see how the south-facing forests lag behind the north-facing ones,
still slower to melt, slower to wake.
Everything is preparing to burst forth.
The water.
The trees.
The animals.
The people.
And I feel it in myself too.
But not as urgency.
Not as pressure.
As a quiet readiness.
A soft awakening.
Spring is not about rushing.
It is not about suddenly becoming something. It is about aligning. About allowing.
Winter created the space.
The stillness.
The clearing.
The restoration of the soil.
And now…
What has been gestating beneath the surface?
What is ready to be nurtured?
What is your internal garden asking for?
Because spring is not about instant bloom.
You still have to plant the seeds.
You still have to tend to them.
Water them.
Feed them.
Give them light.
You are not behind.
You are not meant to already be in full expression.
That will come later—
In summer.
In fullness.
In expansion.
And then, in time, in harvest.
For now— This is the season of care.
Of patience.
Of quiet devotion to what is just beginning.
So my loves…
Are you ready to be gentle with yourself?
Are you ready to nurture what is emerging?
Are you ready to trust that something is already growing—even if you cannot fully see it yet?
If you’re feeling this shift too…
I’ve created something to support this exact transition.
A small collection of sound journeys, self-care practices, and seasonal nutrition to gently awaken the body, clear the winter stillness, and help you tend to what is ready to grow.
Happy Spring!
Bridgette Joy
🌿 The Spring Alignment Library
https://bridgettejoywellness.kit.com/products/spring-alignment-library
