To be a green witch is to exist deep in the cycle of life that has existed since the beginning of time – a cycle of life, of death, and of eventual rebirth. No two rebirths will ever be the same, and yet, in paradox, all rebirth shares a same when looked at from a wide enough lens.
The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.ā – Robert Jordan
This week, a beginning. The first of the many of the bulbs my partner and I planted last fall have erupted from the soil overnight. I confess that I have no idea which of our early bulbs these are – to my chagrin, we did not record what we placed where. I’ve added this to the tasks to do this year – record each of these precious creatures as it arrives to welcome in the spring.
A year ago (but just barely), none of us had any idea where we would be now. We had no intention of starting to reclaim the derelict garden outside of our apartment and I contented myself with watching early spring arrive in my neighbor’s yards long before it ever did mine. Even when we did decide to garden, we had plans to create a raised bed for herbs in the backyard.
We had no idea what we were in for. And I don’t regret a second of it. I’ll be gardening (probably pretty aggressively) for the rest of my life. And this time, I am going to write it down.
It is not the beginning. But it is definitely a beginning.