‘Forget Me Not’ by Sara Wright

As if I could.

Almost three days of spring flooding seems so normal now that I expect it. Hard to believe it’s only been raining like this for less than a year. A warming climate creates torrential rain, three to five feet of snow at once, wildly fluctuating temperature shifts and who knows what else. After all, this is just the beginning. The end is out of sight.

One robin awakened me this morning with a symphony and kept up his chorale for an hour. It was still raining then but robin warbled on, harbinger of spring.

Today was the day I promised myself I’d tackle the cellar, now flooded even with a sump pump that runs around the clock. Our poor patch of northern earth is just too saturated.  

Continue reading “‘Forget Me Not’ by Sara Wright”

Persephone by Barbara Ardinger

Here we are, creeping up on the vernal equinox (March 21), which astronomers and weathermen on TV tell us is the start of spring. I see Imbolc (as described by Deanne Quarrie) as the true beginning of spring, however. It’s when we see the first little crocuses popping up through the snow…..oh, yeah…..well, maybe not this year, when more than half the U.S. is buried under mountains of snow. Let’s just agree that in ordinary years crocuses pop up and bloom and trees start showing us their tiny green leaves in February. The equinox is really the turning point of spring, the hinge of time when the rising energy tips over into falling energy that is flowing toward summertime, which will arrive at Beltane (May 1 or 2).

Persephone
Demeter and Persephone

We’re probably all familiar with the story of Persephone, who under her childhood name, Kore, was out picking flowers in the meadow one day when her Uncle Hades roared up out of the earth in his mighty chariot and kidnapped her. This led her mother, Demeter, the grain goddess, to search for her and finally go on strike and let the world turn back into winter. This went on until Aunt Hecate told Demeter where her daughter was. When Persephone, now queen of the underworld, came back up with her mother—voilà! It was springtime. That’s how the vegetation myth goes. Continue reading “Persephone by Barbara Ardinger”