Winter's Exodus, Spring's Equinox

February 24, 2015

Winter's Exodus, Spring's Equinox

I relish a tease of petrichor in the shelter of the greenhouse on day like today. A Carolina wintery mix lingers, prelude to spring days budding with vitality and resurgence spied only in the perky daffodils blooming and the unfurling foliage, still too shy to show, and rightfully so. Winter's pursuit is waning to Spring's ambitions and I too find my seasonality percolated.

Only upon recent, obsessive farmstead cultural pursuits, has an awareness of and reverence for personal and relative weather seasonality pervade.  Today, like most weekdays between the roosters crow in the a.m. and the suns faithful adieu, I was and can likely be found digging in the dirt somewhere and chatting with the chickens. The inclement ick of this particularly harsh, monochromatic, blustery day had me saturated and soiled in wintry rains, wicked with dirt from toe to head. Let it be known, I do not hesitate to quip that in fact, "I am a fair weather farmer". I would however, like to reclaim this wit with a realized notion that I am rather innately cyclic with a great regard for seasonality. In the preceding season that shone distinguished royal colors of  bronze, purple and red, I prudently threshed seeds of the fields pink peas, Summer's golden sunflower crowns and preserved harvest blessings heirloom gems. Quite ripe and crisp, Autumn's glory I relished with avidity.  Arrived, still seeking reprieve from an arduous summer exhausted from the days dominated by our Sun's rays. It was with winters chill I took shelter more often then not, huddled at hearth, soaking in fire, planning seeds to be sown for hopeful harvests of this coming Spring. All creatures, all life, all vegetation exalt the intrinsic seasonality for it is our momentum, our rest, our preserve. Now, as I write these reflections, and seasons venting, bones and clothes are dry, and I am ready to greet our fast approaching Spring's Equinox, hail Winter's exodus and I don't hesitate to give each season her praise, after all, it is only natural to wax and wane, it is only natural that seasons change.