Sip, Hover, Trust
Hummingbird Wisdom for tending to what is ready to bloom
Welcome back
I come to you another year older and full of love and gratitude today. My 31st birthday was on Friday, and I am biased—but I love being a spring baby.
Our weekend was full of perfect spring weather, birds chirping, laughter around the fire, and really good food. April, in my family, is a month of celebration. Both of my grandmas are Aries, along with a few cousins. It’s always felt like a joyful, full time to me.
I’ve been savoring the darker mornings that give way to early sunrises, the long days that end in the garden—hands in the soil, tending to the tiniest sprouts as they begin to establish themselves in this new season.
April feels fresh to me. Whether it brings drizzly, quiet rain or a sudden stretch of 70-degree warmth, I’m here for all of it. It is a true threshold month—a crossing.
And if you’re not quite feeling the zest yet, just know: what’s unfolding within you is necessary.
January through March asked us to notice. To be honest with ourselves. To sit with what was present without needing to fix or force movement. That was sacred work.
Now, as we move through April and let the spring season slowly enchant us, I invite you to gently ask:
What wants to grow?
What did you notice stirring during those long, darker months?
What quiet urges, what small inner buds, began to reveal themselves?
Spring, especially under Aries energy, can bring that fire in the belly—the return of aliveness, desire, motion. But even here, we are asked to remember:
We can name our desires without pressure.
When growth becomes urgent, we disrupt the very process we’re trying to support. So again, we return to the breath. We look around. We remember:
Nature does not rush.
It does not demand urgency.
And still—everything blooms.
Hummingbird Wisdom reminds us that devotion is found in the small, repeated acts. The gentle return. The willingness to hover, to sip, to trust that what nourishes us will be there again.
There is no forcing a bloom.
But there is tending.
Remaining devoted to the vision of that tiny bud matters. Early spring asks for tenderness—for nourishment, for care, for presence. It reminds us that we cannot surge forward and leave ourselves behind.
Deep self-care.
Deep self-trust.
Quiet devotion.
These are what carry us into full bloom as spring ripens into summer.
A Simple Spring Practice — Tending the Bud
Find a quiet moment—outside if you can, or near a window.
Place one hand on your heart, one on your belly.
Take a few slow breaths.
Ask yourself, softly:
What wants to grow within me right now?
Don’t reach for an answer. Let it arrive.
When something comes—a feeling, an image, a word—simply name it. No planning. No fixing. No next steps.
Just witness it.
If it feels right, you might write it down or speak it aloud.
Then, offer it one small act of devotion.
Not a plan—just care.
Maybe it’s rest.
Maybe it’s time in the garden.
Maybe it’s saying no to something that pulls you away from yourself.
Let it be simple. Let it be enough.
Like the hummingbird, return to it gently, again and again.
Wishing you many blessings this Spring season!
XOXOXO
RISS