The Green, Green Grass

The grass was green yesterday.  Not all of it, but a few glorious patches were the electric green I find only at the beginning of spring.  That vibrant color, that brilliant hue, heralds life returning.

Not the grass, but plants growing beside my parking area.

Although today you wouldn’t know it.  We are going to get about an inch of snow and the trees are already covered.  I guess Persephone wants a little more time before she leaves the underworld.  Maybe that is why Ostara didn’t seem a big deal to me.  It’s still cold here.  We had a fantastic week of sixties and now we are back to the thirties.  But that’s normal Iowa weather for you.

I’ve been in a funk lately – emotionally, religiously, house cleaningly, writing-wise, and project-wise.  Nothing is getting done.  I used my google calendar to break out timelines for some projects, that way I would be responsible for getting things done.  But I only did this for my non-profit projects… and I haven’t looked at it regularly.  I bought a whiteboard calendar at Goodwill to have a hardcopy at home but I haven’t touched it yet.

I think I’m starting to get better, to get out of the funk, but I still have to kick my butt about it.  I need to realize that I am wallowing around and just go do stuff.

I made paper daffodils for Ostara.  They look lovely on my crowded altar.  I’m glad I finally made a crafty thing for Persephone and I’m trying not to feel bad about not doing a ritual.  I think it’s about time to do volume 2 of the My Monster Said No zine.  Maybe that would help me get out of my guilt issues.

I’m working on it.

That moment of wonder when I first saw the new grass, I felt happy.  I felt the energy rising with the neon color.  I felt ready for the new year. 

The grass is growing, Persephone, it’s putting on the best it has to offer to welcome you home.

I welcome you too.  After deaths and close calls in the lives of people I know and love, I am ready to stand under an open sky again.  Ready to walk, barefoot, against the grass and hear the leaves rustle above me.

I am ready.