Happy Eostara

Eostara, or Ostara, is one of my favorite holidays. It straddles March 20th and 21st, the Vernal Equinox. I usually begin the celebration with Saint Patrick's Day on the 17th, follow through with the beginning of the month of Alder on the 18th, and follow through til after the Equinox. If Easter falls in that range, too, so much the better!

Old Irish traditions call this time of year Cutios, or "wind time." The Equinox brings us a wonderful time of balance-- day and night in equal portion and harmony. We get cold and warm days, soft and harsh days, and the bitter blanket of winter is stripped away to reveal a quilt of flowers. Crocuses and snowdrops come first. Birds start kicking up a ruckus. Tides go mental and everyone else seems to follow along.

For me it's a time to revitalize, renew, and resurrect. I like to air out my heart, give my spirit a serious brushing, and open every window to clean stale air away. I always find myself refreshed and filled with ambition in this season.

So Happy Eostara, or Joyous Equinox, or Welcome Alder Season! Now gimme some of those mini Cadbury Eggs!!

d00d! Where's my head?

I blog on Mondays here at Ficitonistas and usually I get up first thing int he morning and hammer it out. I rarely post my blog after 9 a.m.

Notice the time now? Um 3:19 p.m. CST. Yeah. That's right. I'm a little late.

Sorry. I blame the weather. Because it's finally gorgeous here and I was so caught up with spring fever that I forgot all about my blogging duties.

I love spring. The daffodils and crocuses are blooming. Leaf buds are forming on the trees. The sky is that beautiful blue that you only see this time of year. Yes, it's wonderful.

My favorite part of the spring is waking up and having coffee on my back porch or sipping a glass of wine in the same spot just before I go to bed. It's cool, but not too cold. And the air has that crisp new spring smell in it that makes me happy.

What's your favorite thing about spring?

Things I See In My Backyard

Is this a sign of spring in Florida? The random roving armadillo? Not sure, but this little guy was going to town in our backyard a few days ago, snuffling through the grass for bugs. Every time the cats came out to look at him, he'd curl up and go very still. The cats would get bored and walk away. I think they thought he was a rock.Unfortunately, we think he also chewed through one of the wires that connects the solar heating element to the pool pump. Good thing it was still under warranty. Other than that, spring comes to Florida the same way summer does in other states - days that reach into the low 80's, but the nights are still high 50's, low 60's. It's a lovely time of year since there is very little humidity. We call it our Hawaii season and live with the doors wide open. Yesterday all I wanted to do was lounge in front of the open slider where I could see the blue sky and the sunshine and listen to the birds and the sound of the water.

What's spring like in your neck of the woods? Are there signs of it yet?

Where the Lilacs Bloom

It won't be long now. We've got a forecast for snow tonight. With forays to Maine, Nova Scotia, Cambridge, and beyond scheduled intermittently through the coming year, seasons have been on my mind. I'm feeling a sense of grounded relief to have my boots stuck in the muck of Green Harbor again. My poor guy is still shivering up in Nova Scotia.

The amusing irony for me, these past weeks, has been the weather warning chorus. Everyone, upon hearing I'd be spending time in Nova Scotia, bade me be careful of the freezing and snow. Nova Scotia's weather report is very, very rarely different from the one in my home town. It is a little bit colder on most days by a degree or two. This year we actually got the greater amount of snow down here on the balmy shores of Green Harbor. It's 40 degrees this morning. Back in Halifax, where I left my darling boy, it's 39. We have snow forecast. Halifax has rain.

Honestly? On most given days it would be impossible to tell the difference between the Halifax in Nova Scotia and the one a few miles south of here.

Some might be dismayed by the similarity. I am not. In spite of having crappy lungs and very problematic skin, I love seasons and don't mind the cold weather. Plus, my home-away-from-home has something in common with the home of my heart.

Just outside both doors are the first shout of joy to meet the spring, my favorite flower: lilacs. There really is no point in spring without them. Antique, fluffy, burgeoning bunches of pale purple giving off a scent that can't be rivaled. Some people meet the snowdrops and crocuses, the daffodils and hyacinth with a renewed heart. For me, lilacs will always mean comfort, joy, sweetness, and home. I've never lived anywhere without an astonishing bush of these flowers by my door. Ahmed tried buying a shrub for the brownstone that was once his bachelor pad. We ended up transplanting the good ones from Maine. Antique lilacs are completely different. The flowers are heavy, dense clusters. The fragrance is heady and pure.

Seeing the shape of the leaves, left dry and brittle, on the stalks by the door in the little place we have in Dartmouth, just over the bridge from Halifax, Ahmed promised that spring was going to come. We both laughed, but it gave me more than hope. It reminded me that wherever we are, we can find a sort of satellite that transforms the place into a second home. With someone we love close by it's not hard.

And lilacs. You have to have lilacs.