Lots of folks I know are complaining about the fact that there is no sunshine here this spring. They claim to have lived here in the Pacific Northwest for long periods of time. I’ve lived here 45 years, all but my first three, and my parents are native, as native as white people can be at least. Back when I was young we used to go ice skating on the shores of Lake Washington, something no one could believe nowadays. I got married way back when in March 1981 and my colors were grey and pink for the pussywillows and cherry blossoms against a grey sky. I thought it was beautiful. I don’t remember spring being anything but rainy with occasional sun breaks. Occasional being the operative word.
While it has been grey around here and has sort of misted but not rained I’m actually quite worried about how little it has rained this spring. Thankfully it is raining for real this morning and I’m not concerned about my angelica fainting past it’s pot rim one more time. When I have to start watering my container gardens in April and May, that worries the crap out of me.
I love the seasons here. More and more I find more and more people hating the beauty of weather in all it’s forms. Like my emotions, I don’t see any one manifestation to be good or bad. It just is. It has it’s purpose. Anger is the catalyst for change. Rain is the catalyst for the green that we are known for. I’m just stunned that folks would rather have all sun. It’s so sad. And it keeps one in everlasting grumbleage in a temperate rain forest climate.
For everything there is a season. I think the thing that is most pagan, most witchy, about me, is my love of nature and the seasons in their turn. I learned this love from my parents mostly. Walks in the fall collecting leaves. Walks in the winter snow to get our tree. Snails under wet leaves in the spring, eating the tender shoots and the bane of my mothers existence but so cool to me when I was a kid. Playing in the summer sun on the pond. Discovering the names of birds, caterpillars, the quince that tells me spring really is coming. My mother, the master gardener, the pagan quaker, tells me things are just right. Tis true.
The rain is falling and the robin still sings outside my window. I adore robin song. I adore rain song.
Would I like the sun to shine? Yes. And it’s going to. Really. Soon enough it will be so hot I’ll be longing for autumn’s cool mornings and evenings with the promise of respite. I am in no hurry. The other day I ran across some autumn motifs that made my heart sing and remember how much I love that time of year. It will get here soon enough.
Right now, I’m digging this drip drip drip and warble combined to tell me that this really is spring. I feel so happy peaceful just listening to it. drip drip chirp drip Exactly the way it’s supposed to be. May it always be as it always has been. Exactly the way it was created.