Bud and Blossom and the Vernal Equinox

the gift of growth

I’m Jo, a maker, grower and musician, nurturing a life-long devotional practice of weaving nature and ritual into the everyday. This is a place for seekers of untamed edges, the imperfect and the meaningful with twice monthly tales from the woods, garden and hearth. Gather in, rest and deepen your relationship with the beguiling beauty and feral corners of the natural world.

The lane was fringed with tiny green buds as we crossed over into a field. A solitary blackthorn bush stood tall and in full bloom. Humming with bees and other insects, each blossom was bustling with activity, tiny bundles of pollen being carried to and fro. On we walked, surrounded by trees high up on the plateau of the ridgeway. The late afternoon sun’s rays steeped everything in a muted shimmer. It felt like the world had come alive again.

Nearby, spring has started to shape its own tales of the riverbank with water voles, kingfishers and damselflies weaving in and out of the rushes. Birdsong is filling the air in all directions and we’re keeping a close eye on the long-tailed tits in the garden. Early nesters, they keep their lichen-covered quarters well-hidden. We’re listening out for the tiniest of cheeps.

Yellow is the colour along road sides. A profusion of cheer from daffodils, cowslips and primroses.

Spring is a stirring of the senses. Today in the northern hemisphere we have reached the Spring (or Vernal) Equinox, and with it growth, change and wonder. Spring Equinox is the start of astronomical spring.

Equinoxes happen when neither hemisphere is tilted towards or away from the Sun and there are roughly equal hours of daylight and darkness. Solstices, on the other hand, happen when a specific hemisphere is tilted towards or away from the Sun, which results in long days or long nights.

Royal Museums Greenwich

But it’s more than an astronomical event, the Vernal Equinox is symbolic. It’s a time of hope and renewal when you can feel the earth’s life force rise to the surface once again. This symbolism can be felt in the elements too.

Air, the breath of life blowing gently. Fire, bringing warmth, light and comfort. Water, bringing soft spring rains to nourish the soil. Earth, giving nutrients and supporting strong roots.

It’s also a time of year that’s rich in folklore. Although March is a time associated with boxing hares as part of their mating ritual, the hare was once a witch symbol. It was thought that when in danger a witch could change into a hare to out-run her persecutors, then running wild across fields and plains.

At each turn of the Wheel of the Year, I mark the occasion with a ritual of some sort. At the Vernal Equinox I light candles in the garden around the first flowers that bloom (almost always the narcissi). It’s a sacred space of less than one square meter, an edge-space by the tangle of ivy. I also say a few words in the form of a blessing, to the garden and nature, the source of so much solace and joy for me. This year I’ve also written a new ritual, which you can find below. It’s a redacted version of the original which I posted earlier in the week, which is here: The Seed Ritual

However you mark this time of year (or even if you don’t) I hope this change of the season brings you warmth, joy, beauty and hope.

I won’t be publishing any posts in April, because I’m getting married. I might write an occasional note when I come across a tiny thrill, but otherwise I’ll be back in May. Have a wonderful start to the spring season and see you around Beltane.

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