Diary

Days of Note: first robin of spring

Sun: aquarius (air/fixed), 7:22am - 5:47pm
Moon: waxing crescent, aries (fire/cardinal)
Earth: snow overnight, layering a few inches this morning and still coming down in large, lazy flakes

This morning as I was getting dressed, I glanced out the bedroom window to spot the first robin of the still-so-new season of spring — in fact, a whole flock of them! Flitting and gliding between the neighbor's low bushes across the street, and the bare branches of the sycamore tree just downhill of our driveway. I counted at least fifteen of them, feathers ruffled and puffed out fat and fluffy against the cold, the unmistakably familiar red breast and dark wings. In among them was a single, brilliant red cardinal. I watched them for a good five minutes, dancing and weaving through the falling snow, dark creatures swinging through a dim white-and-gray landscape.

I could hardly contain my excitement about them. Playing through my mind again was the admonition of Brigid, from the Sassafras Grove Imbolc ritual three nights ago when the priestess drew the omen after our offerings had been made: "Spring comes through nature. Go out into nature to observe the real signs of spring coming." I took this to heart, as it echoed the advice I've been sensing from her for a while. The need to get back out there, ground in the woods and fields unrolling beneath the sky. I've allowed the winter's cold to intimidate me and keep me huddled in my home, feeling frustrated with the restless energy of cabin fever. The priestess interpreted the omen to be a gentle warning: do not sit in your warm, cozy homes and simply visualize spring coming — go out into the woods, go out to walk upon the earth, and see what is truly around us.

I can't help but think that this is also a plea for our attention and attending. That there are whole flocks of robins here and yet it seems so early.... It's been a long, unusually cold winter, yet already the robins are here. Part of me worries about the health of our planet, the extremes in season that seem to be increasing with every year. I think Brigid is not only asking us to attend to nature for our own good, but because the earth desperately needs us to be paying attention, to be listening for the signs of the dancing, turning seasons so that we can better recognize when that dance is out of balance or disrupted too drastically. In past years, sometimes I've felt spring hardly lasted — only a few weeks of mild, muddy weather before the heat of summer began to creep back in around the edges. Will that pattern repeat itself this year? I cannot know if I am not attending to the signs in the natural world around me, if I am too busy inside in front of a computer screen to notice the real world outside.

Still, a flock of robins is a blessing, and they were so beautiful! Spring cannot be so far away, when I can remember the fields bespeckled with dozens and dozens of robins hopping over muddy ground seeking out worms and bugs in the newly green grass. Just a little longer....

(I do intend to write about the Sassafras Grove Imbolc ritual. As soon as I have the chance!)