I don't know why, but I am having a hard time connecting with the spring seasonal tide this year. I think it's because it feels like we haven't even had any winter yet. There's barely been any snow at all this year and everything is dry, dry, dry, and the weather has been unseasonably warm for most of the winter, too.
I suppose some who have been pounded with snow and ice all winter would find this a blessing, but I don't. It feels so wrong. And the land seems so parched. We desperately need moisture.
Usually I am so geared up for March to arrive and the spring equinox. But not this year... it feels like the weather has been in a holding pattern since October. Most years, I would have made a trip to the local greenhouse for seeds already and have planted them on spring equinox. This year I haven't. I just can't even imagine seeds wanting to sprout or being able to survive in this dry, dead weather, although I know seeds are tenacious little souls.
My hyacinths came up in the front yard, which is always a sight that gladdens my day; but the blooms dried up after a few days. The peonies have thrust their red shoots up from the ground and I give thanks when ever I pass by. My eyes greedily drink in the sight of the green leaves of the crocus and daffodils working their way out of the hard soil. I fear for them, will they dry up too?
My whole being is calling for heavy, wet snows or thundering, pouring rains. I swear I will go outside and dance in it, I truly will. The land, and my soul, thirsts.
1 hour ago