Temperatures rose to the 80s this week. No longer could I sit and stare longingly out the window; I had to get outside.
Yesterday, I walked outside and discovered that the cherry blossom trees had bloomed. I wasn’t sure if we had any around here, though they’re famous in this area, and The Boyfriend and I were unable to get up to the National Mall to see them bloom at the Tidal Basin this year. (Next year.) So I had resigned myself to thinking that it would be at least another year before I was able to see these gorgeous trees in person. Not too awful, as I’d already been waiting over a decade to see them. For now, photos would do still.
So I was delighted to see that on my walk yesterday, the pale pink blossoms gently blowing in the warm breeze. A huge grin spread across my face as I stared at it from across the street, happy to have finally seen them in person. On my way back, I made sure to stand on their side of the street so that I could look at them up close. They were just as gorgeous as I anticipated them being, a lovely shade of the palest pink, their fine yellow stamen looking like flecks of gold against the soft blossoms. I itched to snip a small twig to send to my mother, so she could see them in person herself, but knew that even if I did the blossoms wouldn’t last on the twigs long enough to reach her. She, like me, has been dying to see them in person for years.
As I came up the walk in front of my building, my grin grew even larger. The flowers before my building had bloomed as well, their sun-yellow faces leaning over the walk: daffodils. I had been arguing with The Boyfriend for weeks over whether they would be tulips or daffodils and was pleased to see I had been correct in my assessment.
Tuesdays are saved for Hekate and Persephone now. As I walked along the road near my building, I could feel Kore stretching out her legs and arms, a little stiff from having been below for so long. It felt like the entire land was leaning back, stretching and working the stiff kinks from the body as it warmed, exhaling in pleasure, its breath erupting into explosions of flowers and color.
Spring was never my favorite season, but with every passing year I find myself more and more fond of it. Winter and I have become distant to one another, though autumn and I are old friends – it will always be my favorite.
When we moved here late last summer and early fall, I went for many drives in the surrounding area. I’d done this many times back in Illinois, exploring the surrounding area, windows rolled down and enjoying the wind on my skin. Here in Virginia, it’s a little harder to get out to the open roads, the countryside, but so worth it. There are dozens if not hundreds of vineyards and the landscape rolls and rises, far from the flatland of the Midwest. I remember the rich, lush greens of the mountains as I drove along roads and made my way further and further around, exploring up into Maryland and as far inland as West Virginia. The landscape here is so much different from back in Illinois and I feel a fervent pleasure exploring it and learning its small niches and backroads. With spring here now, I look forward to driving again, once the car’s been taken care of. Winter wasn’t kind to her.
I am a polytheist and I work with my gods, yet I still worship the divine and the spirits I find in the natural world around me.