I find it interesting to witness how quickly a season can begin to shift here in the UK. During the month of January, I spent a lot of time outdoors. During the progression of storms we received I found the back of my garden flooded and my summer house surrounded by a moat of water. The chance of permanent damage to a wooden structure (as well as the loss of sentimental and practical items inside) spurred myself and my husband into action. In the grips of a cold winter snap, I found myself wading through storm water and single mindedly draining the water and resetting everything inside once the waters had finally receded.
As I was surveying the damage (minimal to the structure of the summer house, thank the Goddess) I couldn’t help but notice the signs of life returning to mother earth around me. The bird song in the air- noticeably more excited than it was at the Winter Solstice. The new shoots appearing on my rose, honeysuckle and bottle brush. The delicate yet strong green shoots pushing up through the frozen earth. I even spotted some snowdrops, a splash of white against the darkness of the slumbering earth, in a neighbours garden. Although, I guess the earth was already stirring from her slumber at this point.
February came, and with it yet more flood waters. The summer house itself still took minimal damage, but the loss inside was greater and hit harder. Spring was stirring around me (now snowdrops were out in carpets and daffodils were beginning to emerge) yet the pull of Winter and the grief held in the comfort of the Crone was still inside me. I wondered what medicine was to be discerned from this experience. On a practical level; there was a lot of work to do to protect the summer house. Plans for the warmer and most importantly- dryer- weather were laid and contingencies placed to prevent more damage should the rains bless our garden once more. On a spiritual level there was a reminder; I’d been stripping back during Winter, and the root of my spiritual practice was suddenly front and foremost in my mind; how could I simplify my spirituality? A lesson of Winter to be explored in Spring. Now in March, I stand on the doorway of Spring with no sacred space set, everything dismantled and boxed up to keep it safe until I can be certain the space won’t flood anymore. I’m reminded that, even on the threshold of a new season, I still have lessons to discern from Winter. Just as Spring stirs from its slumber, new ideas and thoughts begin to stir in me, too.
A Blessed Spring Equinox to all!