Spring, 2000 Monthly Feature : Each month I have been putting together some of my favourites to share with you. Archives

Lion Days

There seemed to be so much more winter than we needed this year.

Week One

March is break-up season. This is when winter begins to loosen its stranglehold, when the ice in rivers begins to crack like cattle whips, when bits of ground reappear from under snow, when mud becomes a four letter word. Walking in the garden in the first part of this month, the mud oozes and goops and squishes and sticks like glacial quicksand. It seems absurd to even imagine a garden growing here; that warm weather will return, that the snow will melt and that any seed or plant will grow in this oozing, icy slime. Faith in the power to endure, the power to renew, is all that sustains the garden now.

Week Two

Hands full of seed packets, head full of dreams. The snow often disappears for part of this month, only to reappear at any time into April. The early passing of the snow does not mean that spring is quite here yet, the nights are still frigid, and fresh snows will doubtless fall. I settle in with a garden book and wait for the passing of the lion days of the month. The allure of seeds is undeniable and hard to avoid. To a sun-starved gardener trapped in a greyscaled winter they suggest a magical vision: sprinkle me with water and soil and I will reward you a thousandfold. It is the perfect promise for March.

Week Three

Was that a bluebird? I come to appreciate the more subtle signs that intimate the change of seasons and the coming of spring. Now the middle of March, the vanguard of early migrant birds appears. First the warblers, then sparrows, followed by a robin or two - I see a kitten's tail twitching in anticipation from beneath the curtains. Occasional scents of spring on a warmish breeze awaken senses dulled by frost and dry air. Gradually the buds on the trees begin to swell, and the ascending slant of the strengthening light is an epiphany. The view from my kitchen window keeps me abreast of these leisurely yet profound changes, and my spirits are lifted.

Week Four

Impertinent spring! As the days grow longer, and the muds turns into soil - the garden begins to come to life again. I feel like a POW (Prisoner of Winter) newly released from a harsh sentence of darkness. Each newly emerging green leaf shoot cheers me, whether it's a weed or a plant I've nurtured. Still tentative now, but by middle of next month, the broad leaves of tulips and thin straps of daffodils, even a few lacy dill volunteers, show me in their jaunty way that we're all going forward - there is no turning back.

Week Five

Scherzo! The sun rises earlier every day. Having moved at a snail's pace for weeks, its glowing rim now races across the horizon. It has an appointment with the equator on March 21st, the vernal equinox. Soon, clocks will be pushed forward an hour, and we will be swept up in the headlong rush of light - now it truly is spring, and as April crosses the threshhold a rhapsodic new season will begin in earnest.

Enjoy the spring!

K.M.G.

Featured Artist: Marc Chagall Dance. Featured Text: Hymn to Demeter from A Sicilian Idyl by Louis V. Ledoux Featured Composer: Igor Stravinsky The Rite of Spring: Dance of the Adolescents 1 The National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain (3,063 KB). Stravinsky's ballet, The Rite of Spring, depicts ritual celebrations in pagan Russia. The composer himself spoke of "the violent Russian spring, which seemed to begin in an hour and was like the whole earth cracking". To evoke this awesome display of nature, Stravinsky composed music that is startlingly raw, and truly does fit this month of struggle between winter and spring.

Hymn to Demeter Weave the dance. and raise again the sacred chorus; Wreathe the garlands of the spring about the hair; Now once more the meadows burst in bloom before us, Crying swallows dart and glitter through the air. Glints the plowshare in the brown and fragrant furrow; Pigeons coo in shady coverts as they pair; Come the furtive mountain folk from cave and burrow, Lean, and blinking at the sunlight's sudden glare. Bright through midmost heaven moves the lesser Lion; Hide the Hyades in ocean caverns hoar; Past the shoulders of the sunset flames Orion, Following the sisters seaward evermore. Gleams the east at evening, lit by low Arcturus; Out to subtle-scented dawns beside the shore; Yet a little and the Pleiades will lure us: Weave the dance and raise the chorus as of yore. Far to eastward up the fabled gulf of Issus, Northward, southward, westward, now the trader goes, Passing headlands clustered yellow with narcissus, Bright with hyacinth, with poppy, and with rose. Shines the sea and falls the billow as undaunted, Past the rising of the stars that no man knows, Sails he onward through the islands siren-haunted, Till the clashing gates of rock before him close. Kindly Mother of the beasts and birds and flowers, Gracious bringer of the barley and the grain, Earth awakened feels thy sunlight and thy showers; Great Demeter! Let us call thee not in vain; Lead us safely from the seed-time to the threshing, Past the harvest and the vineyard's purple stain; Let us see thy corn-pale hair the sunlight meshing, When the sounding flails of autumn swing again.

Past Features

¹In MP3 format. If you are unable to play this file, check out WINAMP. This is a very good MP3 player from Nullsoft, Inc. that you can download today.