A Stinker of a Time

If you’ve read me for more than a season, then you already know that my springs tend to be full of T.S. Eliot and The Waste Land. Who can resist inspiration like: “That corpse you planted last year in your garden / Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?”

“A Stinker of a Time”

I learned the trade from Primavera the Fisher.

“Spring can’t stand botched up winter jobs,” Primavera said, the first morning she took me to the docks. “She always floats their mistakes to the surface. It’s a stinker of a time for us, even when their rot comes carrying gifts.”

Before I could ask what she meant, Primavera speared a severed hand that had been bobbing for sunlight. Its pinky finger wore a huge ruby ring.

“They’ll never be good at winter jobs, if they can’t keep a corpse from blooming in spring.”

In winter, it’s best to bury or burn.

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a wee note…
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the writing bloom. Then follow this LINK, to read what others have fished out of the docks.

photo by Fatima Fakier Deria

Spring Equinox in New York

Spring comes to New York City in thigh-high snow boots, pockets full of pomegranate seeds and the sprouting hopes of Winter’s dead. Some shoot frigid thoughts her way, but Crocuses and Dogwoods stretch their roots under icy soil, and bloom. The wild Witch dances barefoot in snow, heating this mad world from the inside out. Frozen tears melt into dirt, and Spring shrouds Winter with songs of buzzing bees and butterfly kisses… to come.

frosty March
chilling flesh and bone,
but souls spring

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the wee notes…
– Remnants from our last snowstorm are dirty piles on the ground. So, I’m not celebrating this Spring Equinox in my traditional witchy way—walking in the woods as the sun rises, searching for spring sprouting through dead leaves, listening to birds sing of mating and fighting and of whose plumage is most impressive. On this first day of spring, I shall be Aries wild, and celebrate her coming by playing with my books, thinking of seeds, singing offkey, dancing… right after my limbs stop feeling stiff enough to snap (say that 13 times fast).
– Pomegranate Seeds ~ in Greek Mythology, spring doesn’t start until Persephone returns from the Underworld. Soon after her return, it is discovered that her stay won’t be permanent—she ate pomegranate seeds while she was there.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Wishing you a delicious Spring Equinox, my Wicked Luvs.