Monday, March 1, 2010

Persephone, we await your return.

Ohhh, Persephone. What were you thinking when you disappeared into the underworld for 6 whole months leaving us mere mortals up here on Earth grappling with short days, cold weather and the absence of green and color? I, like your mother, am up here on earth weeping waiting for your return: the blush of green as it passes over glades of lawn, the tiny buds of lilac and flowering cherry trees, the bright red tulips carpeting the front walk of the university, and, most importantly, the warm sun on my bare arms and head.

Last night, I heard a rumor that it was March, and I hesitate a bit before I wonder if spring is close by. This past weary winter month has seemed to me like winters of my youth on the North shore of Lake Erie where once the snow hit in November it did not melt again until March. It feels more bleak as an adult than it ever did as a child.

My friend and fellow blogger Steph posted a few days ago that she has seen signs of spring, but I have seen none. Only snow (dirty, muddy snow), bare branches and cold as far as time or mind can see. I think many are sharing this SAD feeling. I feel it in my friends and co-workers. We are listless, anxious and generally blue. All the news seems unhappy: local school cuts on arts and libraries, earthquakes in Haiti and Chile, the Hoosiers sucking at basketball, snow days, work upsets, and recessions all keep us in this rather stuporous mood. It is hard to remember to count our blessings. We wait with baited breath for the fog to lift and the sunshine to return. We are feeling wistful and weepy for you Persephone, Goddess of the spring. Time for the underworld to let you've been gone way too long.

What signs of spring have you seen outside? Even a break in the clouds would feel hopeful. Send pictures of baby birds or postings of daffodils.

--Amy for the Poplar Grove Muse


  1. Okay, after writing this, I came home and saw the daffodils just beginning to poke up through the garden. It felt so amazing to see those little shoots. There is hope!

  2. :-) I can think of few things that thrill me more than the first spotting of the tender, white-green stalk of a someday-flower!

  3. Oh, what was that bright light shining in my eyes this afternoon...could it be? Was it really?