‘Willowing’ at the Turning by Sara Wright

My relationship with and time spent with Indigenous peoples reinforced my intuitive sense that seasonal turnings like the Spring Equinox need to be honored and experienced when the ‘time’ is right. Time, in the Indigenous sense is fluid. Because of this learning I have come to understand that although it is important to write a little ceremony that includes guardians, elements, prayer, gratitude, framing intentions/release that I also need to allow the powers of nature to determine when the actual passage occurs. Indigenous people dance their ceremonies which helped me understand that any experience that transpires around these turnings may become the body of the ceremony if it feels right though the words were written earlier. This year around the equinox darkness reigned in every sense of the word. Having set my intentions, I waited, wondering when the door would open… yesterday it did, and this is the story of what happened. Only afterwards did I realize that in every sense we had honored and experienced the beginning of spring and the rising of clear waters.

My Vet and dearest friend made one of his unscheduled visits. The moment after I got the text my little dogs began to bark. This is normal behavior for both animals who adore their Uncle Gary and are tuned into him on levels that defy explanation (he lives more than a half an hour away). They bark until he arrives, regardless of whether this is a regular visit, or one that’s a surprise. We keep track of the exact timing of his leave – taking, their behavior and his arrival for fun.

Once in the house Hope takes over. She won’t allow Lucy or me to sit next to Gary. She growls as she climbs over us wiggling coyly as she reaches his lap. Witnessing this outrageous performance is pure delight, and a part of every visit. I often end up with tears in my eyes from laughing so hard at her antics, her insistence upon keeping her beloved to herself. Gary, is of course, ever so pleased that she demonstrates such possessive behavior towards him though he doesn’t say so! He’s her special person even though he routinely needles her for acupuncture and sometimes like yesterday gives her the heart medicines that have kept her alive for the last three months along with his devoted attention and care. She loves him so much but no less than he loves her. Hope is in her 13^th year, so every day is a gift…

Around the vernal equinox those of us who live in the north country are given a gift or two before winter returns and this was one of those days that speaks to the promise of spring, so it wasn’t long before Gary and I set out together to go ‘willowing’ under a light breeze and a warm spring sun.

This year I took Gary to a hidden wetland, a haven for all birds on the wing – song sparrows, redwings, blue birds,  gold and purple finches to mention a few migrants that have returned. Although the paths were bare in most places, they were also quite muddy as we trudged along with an eye for large pussy willow clumps. Lightly burnished willow branches were almost ready to burst with silvery fur capped flowers but for now these robust clusters blend in too well with the rest of a wetland that is also ripening with alder catkins, the first gray green sprouts of wild viburnums and the tightly closed branches of a multitude of wild berry bushes that will feed wildlife all summer long. Some like alders and pussy willows provide the first spring foods for bees and bears.

The people who own this land are wise enough to have returned sovereignty to the soil believing that nature knows best how to seed in an old farming field. No invasives here! And no human interference except the creation of paths for walking. Wild apples, healthy young pines and maples dot the property singly or in natural clumps. Older pines ring the upper edges of  marshy lowland that will soon come alive with peepers. This treasure also has a meandering stream. Fish flash silver under gold and cobalt blue. The water is filtered and crystal clear as it flows through the rooted underbrush. Standing pools of melted snow seep through the reeds. Beavers are allowed to build here and do. The overall sense of place is one of immense peace.

My Vet cut the pussy willows after I identified the bushes; Gary immediately noted the speckled bark. Both of us gave thanks in silence. Gary has only been semi -retired for a year and ‘the plant man’ has come to life with tremendous enthusiasm! Gary learns fast and I am so delighted to be able to share my love for plants and birds with a man whose love for animals defines his character, a man who understands how little we know and how much wonder lies hidden in the wild places that are left alone! This is the second year that we have shared this spring turning.

Returning to the house to divide up our modest bundle we discussed what we plan to do with our willows under the watchful eyes of dogs.

That’s when Gary surprised me with a box of clay. Our gifts to each other are usually about his regular visits, showing up during times of uncertainty and illness, the heartfelt exchange of ideas, similar values, our mutual love of art, plants etc. – we live our gifts to one another. But this time was different – Gary knew how much I wanted to start working with clay again, so he ordered some for me and presented it as a surprise.

Sharing a bowl of homemade soup rounded out a day of natural grace and animated conversation, the memory of which I will hold dear. This equinox moment balanced out today’s return of bone chilling cold, wild winds and the promise of another snow.