As we begin to feel the subtle shift in seasons, even before spring fully arrives, I find myself thinking about the different ways we try to change our lives. Sometimes transformation looks physical. We commit to working out, change our hairstyle, or refresh our wardrobe. Sometimes it is mental. We shift our thinking, practice positive self talk, and set new goals.
We begin to pin our hopes on what is coming.
Summer starts to take shape in our minds. Days on the lake. Early mornings on the golf course. Music festivals. Gardening. For many in Treaty 3 communities, it means returning to the powwow trail, maybe dancing for the first time in a long time. These visions carry us through the final stretch of winter.
There is something powerful about the first warm day. The sun feels different. It reaches deeper. People step outside and linger a little longer. For those who struggle through the winter months, especially with seasonal depression, this shift can feel like relief. The cold, the quiet, and the shorter days can weigh heavily on the mind. When the light returns, so does a sense of energy. A sense of possibility.
Spring asks something of us.
It asks us to wake up. To move. To clean. To prepare. Even something as simple as opening windows or beginning a spring cleaning routine takes energy. It signals a readiness to begin again.
In Anishinaabe teachings, this season carries the spirit of renewal. Life returns in visible ways. Animals give birth. Leaves begin to bud. The ice cracks and shifts on the lake, and the rivers begin to flow again. Ceremonies take place where items are feasted, and prayers are offered. There is a quiet but powerful understanding that everything is moving forward, even if it happens slowly.
It is a season filled with anticipation.
Our communities transform too.
After months of being inside, there is a noticeable shift. People gather more. The streets become busier. Tourism begins to return, bringing visitors back to a place many consider their second home. Restaurants fill up. Roads carry more traffic. Stores feel alive again. Construction and renovations begin, with homes and buildings being refreshed after a long winter. There is movement everywhere.
It feels like a collective exhale.
I felt that sense of renewal recently while spending time with Niisaachewan community members and attending their own day powwow, organized by youth. There was something powerful about witnessing young people take the lead in bringing their community together. The drums, the dancing, the laughter, and the pride were all there. It was a reflection of what happens when youth are supported and culture is nurtured.
But spring does not only reveal beauty.
As the snow melts, it also uncovers what has been hidden. In our communities, we begin to see more of those who are unhoused, now visible as they sleep outside in the warmer weather. The ground reveals scattered needles and other reminders of the struggles that exist year-round, even when they are less visible in the winter months.
This is also part of transformation.
It asks us to look more closely. To see what is in front of us without turning away. The transformation that would make the greatest impact is not simply the change of season, but a change in how we respond. Housing, safety, and support are not individual issues. They are community responsibilities.
Many people are loved. Many have families who care for them in ways that are not always visible. But there are also complex challenges. Addiction, trauma, and exploitation continue to affect our people. These are not problems that disappear with warmer weather.
If spring is about renewal, then we must ask ourselves what we are renewing.
Are we only renewing our homes and routines, or are we renewing our commitment to one another?
Transformation is often talked about as something personal. We set goals. We make plans. We try to become better versions of ourselves. But true transformation extends beyond the individual. It shows up in how we care for our communities, especially the most vulnerable among us.
Spring reminds us that change is possible. That growth can happen after long periods of stillness. That life continues, even after the harshest conditions.
But it also reminds us that transformation is not passive.
It requires action. It requires compassion. It requires us to be honest about what needs to change, and to be willing to take part in that change.
As we move toward warmer days, I carry both truths with me. The excitement of what is to come, and the responsibility of what is already here. The beauty of renewal, and the work that still needs to be done.
Transformation is not just about becoming something new.
It is about becoming more aware, more connected, and more willing to care.
