Circle after circle after ...

We are now in the last week of January, or, based on the weather, the first week of March. The Sunrise River has, once again, shed its ice cover. What fascinates me is that Thursday evening, February 1, is the Druid celebration of Imbolc, the first of three Spring festivals. Most years we wouldn’t even consider thinking about Spring until several months from now. This year is different. The long spell of cloudy days is more than a little depressing, but the milder temperatures are, although not exhilarating, at least encouraging. There’s even a chance we may see some sunshine this week.

daily the sun rises earlier, grows stronger

Photo by J. Harrington

We have entered a time when black bear cubs will be born; when great horned owls will start courting; and squirrels start mating. Each day the sun grows a little stronger, even if some of us can’t see it. The return of longer days and the annual courting and mating activities of many critters matches nicely with our upcoming celebration next month of Valentine’s Day which, this year, is concurrent with Ash Wednesday, portending an early Easter.

Joni Mitchell, in her altogether delightful song The Circle Game, about a child growing older, sings:

 "take your time it won't be long now

Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down"

Those of us who have already gone round and round, many, many times, tire of dragging our feet and find anticipation and recollection of seasonal events, in or out of season, almost as full of wonder as catching dragonflies. May January go out like a lamb and February be born as gently as a bear cub.

The Season's Campaign

By Joyce Sidman

I.  Spring

 

We burst forth,

crisp green squads

bristling with spears.

We encircle the pond.

 

II.  Summer

  Brown velvet plumes

bob jauntily. On command,

our slim, waving arrows

rush toward the sun.

 

III.  Fall

 

All red-winged generals

desert us.  Courage

clumps and fluffs

like bursting pillows.

 

IV. Winter

 

Our feet are full of ice.

Brown bones rattle in the wind.

Sleeping, we dream of

seed-scouts, sent on ahead.

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.