When I knelt down on the edge of the marsh, at the bottom of the pasture, and saw these blades of grass with their icy collar, I knew I wanted take their picture.
Then, when I moved slightly to left, the sun came shining through them, like one of those massive, ancient stone calendars, their openings aligned with the seasonal sun, that are found all over the world.
The calendar I use hangs on the wall and tells me that tomorrow is the first day of Spring and that there’s a full moon. I read in the Farmers Almanac that this only happens about three times in a century.
Jon and I are going to celebrate by having a bon fire, just as we did for the Winter Solstice. (I’m hoping he’ll make hamburgers and we’ll eat them around the fire again).
I started gathering wood this morning. There’s plenty of branches lying around from the winter winds. A good clean up and burning of the dead wood.
That works literally as well as symbolically for this renewing day.