Earth Spirit Easter

It is cold in the potting shed this Easter and I am surprised that the Goddess who gave the Christians her name should be out at this time of the year - but it was she who decided that the Festival should occur at the first full moon after the vernal equinox. (Easter Sunday is always the first Sunday after that).

I should be planting the potatoes because this is the right time to do it, the sages say. ‘Before the moon is full to bring on the roots, after the full moon to bring on leaves and fruit’ says my neighbour on the next plot. Except this year, the goddess comes in a drifting mantle of snow and I don’t trust her with my potatoes. I wish I knew what I had done to upset her because last year’s crop was drowned in the summer rains. I feel I can only worship her with half a heart at the moment! She could be sorry; the goddess of Morrisons in her clear plastic dress is calling from the potato bins with an increasingly alluring song.

Our trust is not always challenged though. This year, our garden soil was in joyous mood as Imbolc came along. It did seem warmer, there were green shoots where that obnoxious cat from next door had been trying to stake out a territory. (I don’t mind cats usually - as long as they purr and have their latrine somewhere else - but this one jumps from the wall onto the bonnet of my shiny car and lands with outstretched claws as it transits towards the soil If he kept those claws in he would polish rather than scratch.).

The warmer earth, sight of the sun at last and I was ready to believe that even if I did not receive too many cards on Valentines Day, at least there was a feeling in the air that the birds really were looking for partners on that day and were searching for sticks to begin nest building.

The newspaper last week carried a story (based on scientific research of course) that as the mornings get lighter, something in a bird’s brain triggers something else that releases something chemical that makes the bird wake up early and sing as it has never sung all winter. Singing to attract a valentine and singing to stake out a territory. The paper went on to say that humans carry this same something but as yet it doesn’t know what it makes us do as we don’t seem to want to look for twigs . Call me bird brain because I know what it does - it makes me feel happy. It makes me feel glad to be alive in a heel kicking sort of way and when the sun wakes me up in a morning and shines out of a clear bright sky, it triggers that something chemical called love. Then I love the whole of earth’s creation and I welcome another spring with joy. and bid farewell to the dark winter blues.

tony mcneile