Spring arrived and I missed it
“The California poppy, state flower of California, is one of the best-known western flowers. It is abundant in valleys and foothills of the Pacific coast and in parts of the Rockies, covering large areas with orange-golden flowers, which open during the day. It is also cultivated in horticultural forms that vary in color to pink, cream, or white. —Spring. Poppy Family.”
~ FLOWERS by Dr. Herbert Zim and Dr. Alexander Martin
“Yesterday was the Equinox”, Evan said to me in passing. Baby in one arm, clean diapers in the other, I stopped in shock. Already? How could that be? How could I have missed it? It’s marked right there on my planner. And yet it was true, for the first time, this special gateway to a new season passed me by without notice.
I mourned a bit, the passing of time, the effortless way it slips through your fingers. But then I thought, I didn’t miss it, I was there.
I may have been oblivious, but Baby and I stopped to admire the snowdrops and crocuses that had just popped through the soil. I didn’t listen close enough to hear the quiet way they celebrated the spring, but there celebration brought joy nonetheless.
We listened to the wind chimes as the spring winds that blow through the forest played a gentle melody above us. I didn’t hear the words that they sang, of a new day, a new season. It calmed my soul nonetheless.
We let the still chilly sun shine on our faces, a small hint of things to come. I couldn’t feel the slight change, the tiny extra bit of warmth there, heralding the fertile southern sun. It brought me peace nonetheless.
We enjoyed the tree frogs’ chorus echoing through the trees from the marsh down the trail. I feared the shift that this brought. The ticks and mosquitoes would be here soon, but I melted into their sweet song nonetheless.
I didn’t do my usual rituals, letting the day slowly drip by. But I was there. I celebrated the day even without my knowing. I’ve found nothing makes you more present than caring for a child, the constant need for care and the heartbreaking way they change so quickly. I feel the need to stare at him as much as possible, to feel this moment. In doing so, the sweet passage of spring is also imprinted on my subconscious memory.
And still, life carries on.
Over on Under the Linden Tree, I had a conversation with Gabriela Sarna Wiraszka many months ago. We were discussing the Slavic wheel of the year and something she said really stuck with me.
She said in Slavic folk culture, there were of course particular days that marked passages, these liminal spaces. But more than that, the wheel isn’t just a hoop with rigid prongs marking the passing of time. Rather, there are mini seasons within each season, lasting days, weeks or months. In spring, there is the week celebrating the rusalki (a type of Slavic siren), but also Easter, the equinox, the ritual drowning of Marzanna, days to honor the ancestors. They weave in and out of each other, no beginning, no end.
I didn’t miss it, I’m living it now. The Equinox may be marked on one single day, but its arrival and departure lingers, giving us time to be gentle, to take it all in. So today I went back outside to greet the snowdrops and the crocuses. Made a small offering, a tiny ritual of thanks for their presence despite by ignorance.
I walk back inside to make dinner. I didn’t miss it, I was there.
Much Love,
Val
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