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May we nourish seeds
of possibility and joy.
May we tend to seeds of connection
and seeds of ideas.
May we nurture seeds of genius
and sparks of change.
May we gather up
what we’ve created
and hold it lovingly
and then open our hands
and let go.
May we plant what we can,
savor what we can,
harvest what we need to thrive,
and love where we are now,
hearts alive
and hopes extended.
May we be as full of promise
as a nestled seed,
lying in darkness
at the fiercest edge
of cracking open,
ready to see what grows.

As we move out of sensitive Pisces, I feel my own fiery sun sign of Aries begin to kick its strong hooves into gear. I love when the sun first enters the sign of Aries at the time of the Spring Equinox/Ostara. I’m all about new beginnings, new projects, fresh starts, and creative approaches to problem-solving. When coupled with the always optimistic, first glimmers of spring, one can’t help but lean hard on the side of hope. I appreciate the dreamy, sweet side of Pisces, and know that I have some in my chart, due to the close proximity of where my birthdate falls (the 23^rd). This being said, I also welcome my fighting, brave, adventurous side just around the corner. I look forward to ushering it in with verve and gusto. I’ve had to employ some of this especially recently when it comes to standing up for myself. Often I’d prefer to avoid unpleasant confrontation, preferring flight instead of fight mode.

Justice for All

One thing about we Aries types though, we have a particularly strong sense of defending against anything unjust—whether behavior done to ourselves or our loved ones. So that doesn’t really allow for hiding away from saying what needs to be said or done. This can be applied in the workplace, setting firm boundaries with those who are apt to bring you down, or simply calling out a particularly rough new hygienist in the dentist’s office. Sure we could just lay back and grimace through the pain. But is it really doing anyone any good, especially if the rudeness if pretty over-the -op and the perp isn’t aware, or doesn’t think there are any consequences for their behavior?

We have no idea if the Goths—the ancient Germanic tribe, that is, not the eye-liner'd latter-day Dark Romantics—worshiped a Goddess of Dawn and Spring as did their (later) Anglo-Saxon and Continental German cousins.

If they did, they would have called her Austrô (OW-stroe).

The Goths were the very first of the Germanic-speaking peoples to be converted to Christianity, so very little survives concerning their traditional religion. But if they did indeed honor the Lady Austrô, we can, by way of comparative method, make some educated guesses about what that might have looked like on the ground.

• They would have worshiped Her toward the East.
• They would have offered (i.e. sacrificed) to Her before Sunrise on the Spring Evenday/Vernal Equinox.
• They would have viewed Her as Goddess of both Dawn, the daily Spring, and of Spring, the yearly Dawn, and hence of new beginnings generally.
• They would have spoken of Her as an ever-young Maiden, sister (or daughter) to the Sun.
• Given morning's erotic associations, they would probably also have viewed Her as Lady of Love.
• They would have associated Her with birds, who sing in Her honor every morning, and with the eggs that they lay: as fine a symbol of new beginnings as anyone could ask for.

Who knows? They may even have colored eggs in Her honor, just as we do today.

Hail to thee Austrô, Lady of Love: ever-young goddess, sister to the Sun.

Spring is about to bloom this Sunday and all the little critters outside are feeling quite frisky about it. Squirrels are chasing each other scurrying up trees, the first robin hopped into view the other day on my nature hike, and a bright, red cardinal flew across my path to alight on a tree branch directly diagonal from me. Staring at his brilliance a moment as we regarded each other, I decided to try and communicate with him. I attempted a few series of whistles that I remembered being close to a cardinal bird call. After a few tries, he trilled back loud and clear. I answered him, mimicking back the chirp as loudly and accurately as I could muster. We went back and forth like this for a full five minutes, much to my delight. I probably would have stayed on longer, but the park gate was set to close at 3 p.m. and I didn't want to get shut out to the quicker path back to my residence. He continued to trill happily after me, after I bade him goodbye. I gave a few extra return calls over my shoulder in appreciation. When I looked back, I noticed that he had hopped up to a higher branch to see me and stay parallel from me as I left. I know that they say that birds can be souls of departed loved ones come to visit, and I couldn't help but feel that special connection with our exchange. My grandmother's favorite bird was the cardinal, and my birthday is next week. She used to love St. Patrick's Day and celebrating her Irish heritage, so I definitely think something divine was at work, here. Even if it was a male bird, I don't think the spirits worry much about gender. It filled my heart with joy as I walked back home.

Ren Faires and the Spring Equinox

My Spring Equinox guest for "Women Who Howl at the Moon" this month is Melissa Starks. She sometimes goes by the moniker "Mistress Penny" and has even hosted a sauerkraut eating contest at one of the faires! She has had quite an interesting journey as a "road renny," stockbroker, substitute teacher, and chainmail jewelry maker. (Peruse her handmade designs at https://enchanted-chains-jewelry.square.site/) You can hear all about her adventures on my SoundCloud page. Think about the new things you'd like to coax into springing forth on your own journey. What can you make bloom?

Opening Paganicon 2022

Paganicon 2022 being held over the Equinox weekend, we'll start off our time together with a grand public offering to the many-named and many-colored Lady of Spring.

As always during sacrifice, people will be making their own personal prayers, but the public prayers will be for the well-being of pagans everywhere, especially those of Ukraine.

Please come and join your prayers to ours. If you won't be joining us at Paganicon, I invite you to act in concert by using these prayers on your own recognizance.

And better it be if you pair them with a gift. Remember: “The offering bears the prayer.”

 Now the Green Blade Riseth

Bidding Prayers

Ever-young goddess, Lady of Dawn,

we your people stand here before you:

we ask your blessing upon us, and upon our time together.

So may we grow in wisdom and understanding;

may we leave better pagans than when we came.

And let us all say:

So mote it be.

Ever-young goddess, Lady of Divinations,

you who shine light upon that which is dark:

we ask for renewal of the Old Ways, wherever they are found.

May what has been lost to us, come once again to light;

and let us all say:

So mote it be.

Ever-young goddess, Lady of Spring,

we pray for the well-being of pagans everywhere,

especially the pagans of Ukraine;

may we daily grow in numbers, strength, and confidence.

Shine your light upon our ways, that we may walk in wisdom.

And let us all say:

So mote it be.

1500 years ago, the English-speaking ancestors worshiped (or at least, knew of) a Goddess of Spring and Dawn Whom they called (depending on which dialect of Old English you spoke) either Éostre or Éastre.

(Their Continental cousins, of course, called Her Ôstara.)

So: let us say that Her worship had continued, unbroken, down to the present day. If Her Name had remained in constant usage and undergone all the usual sound changes, what would we call Her today?

The question is easily answered. We would today call Her Easter.

Personally, I think that we still should.

I know, I know, that name has been co-opted and misused by others. For some, Her modern Name is too tainted by association to be taken back.

I don't agree. The Name is Hers, and—as Her people—it's ours to know Her and call Her by. When I hear non-pagans use the term, the sheer irony of it delights me. If only they knew.

It also rather delights me that, around here, we have (in most years) Three Easters (Ôstarûn, the Old Germans would have said): Pagan/Heathen, Catholic/Protestant, and Orthodox.

Guess whose comes first?

I’ll be the first to admit it. I’ve never had a green thumb. Not even a green pinky. Now I know that succulents have been quite trendy for a spell, but with good reason. They are incredibly self-sufficient and easy to care for. Their leaves don’t tend to shed or leave little leaflets all over your floor. In fact, their often full, pleasing, rubbery leaves are what retain all the water that you douse them with– often as little as one good soak in the sink a week. Another thing that makes them so fun is they come in a vast array of shapes and sizes: viny, cascading, or growing full and upward like a sturdy little tree. Some flower, aloe and cacti fall into the category, and all seem to have whimsical names.

Choosing and Caring for Your Plants

Most like some sunlight, so you should definitely take that into consideration when looking for the right location for your cheery indoor greenery. Two of my recently acquired succulent plants currently reside in my kitchen. The viny ones do especially well as hanging plants, so kitty can’t get at them to nibble something she shouldn’t. One of the longest lasting indoors succulent that I owned survived three moves over a five-year period was a rope Hoya plant. It almost looked fake, but upon closer inspection, you could feel that these twisty, plump, round leaves were definitely the real deal. I believe it would have even survived longer, had I not accidently toppled it after rewatering one day. My replanting attempts definitely need some work, but that’s a tale for another time. When I visited my neighborhood Stein’s Garden & Home in search of more succulents to brighten up my continued pandemic winter this year, alas they had no ropas. One of the saleswomen referred to it as a “grandma plant” that she hadn’t seen in a while.