The Season Between

EDITORIAL — Late March in Michigan is never all that convincing.

One day you’re outside without a coat, squinting in the sun and thinking maybe we’ve turned the corner. The next morning you’re scraping frost off the windshield and wondering why you got your hopes up.

That’s just how this time of year works. It doesn’t necessarily arrive all at once. It eases in, backtracks, (more often than we'd like) and tests your patience.

If you're apt to the nuanced changes in the air like me, you may notice that Cedar Springs feels like it’s in that same in-between space.

The snowbanks are gone, but the grass hasn’t quite turned green. The trees are bare, but you know they won’t stay that way for long. The ground is soft and a little messy, not quite settled.

This is also the time of year when a lot of quiet decisions get made. At home, people start thinking about what needs attention once the weather fully breaks. Likewise, around town, leaders are working through the next budget cycle, weighing what to fund, what can wait, when grants will hit, and what direction makes the most sense for this next year ahead.

It’s easy to focus on what we can see, the things already built, those that what needs work, and what’s already blooming. But a lot of important work happens before anything is visible.

Budgets are seemingly boring, especially if you're not all too interested in math, planning, and prioritizing. Importantly though, more than spreadsheets, budgets are statements of direction that reflect what a community values, what it’s willing to invest in, and what it believes needs attention. The same way a homeowner decides whether to repair the roof, repaint the porch, or plant a tree that won’t provide shade for years.

None of it is glamorous, and sometimes it's tedious work. But it matters more than most would think.

Spring teaches patience in that way. Before the leaves return, the branches look stark against the sky. Before the parks are green and full, they are muddy and wet. Growth begins quietly, long before it becomes obvious.

And communities grow the same way.

There will always be conversations about where we're headed and how we should get there. And that's great. It means people care and are paying attention. It's important to note, however, that not every decision will please everyone. Similarly, not every season feels comfortable while we're in it.

But just like the turning of the weather, there's a steady rhythm to civic life. Plans are made, then adjusted accordingly. Lessons are learned from the past, and over time, the shape of the town shifts in small, incremental ways.

Right now, we're between what was and what will be. The air is changing and the calendar is turning. The groundwork is being laid.

Soon enough, the trees will bud once more. The parks will be filled, and the long evenings will return.

But, for now, we live in the season between.