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There’s something about that first whiff of spring in the air that makes one hopeful. Even if you don’t normally consider yourself an optimist, it’s hard not to smile more often or sing to yourself when the sun shines a bit brighter and the birds sound a bit chirpier. This is the optimum time to start either a new project, exercise plan, or go for a new job. Here is a simple but effective ritual to assist in welcoming spring:

Decorate your altar with some fresh bright yellow daffodils. Fill your chalice with a sunny beverage offering such as orange juice or lemonade. Set out some eggs or images of eggs. In fact, get one boiling on the stove. An optimum hard-boiled egg should be brought to a rolling bowl, submerged in a small pot of water. Once the boil is full, turn off the heat but leave on the burner, cover and let sit for 12-15 minutes. Eventually drain out the hot water, rinse the egg in cold h2o, dry and set aside.

If you don’t already own some runic stones, I highly recommend "The Healing Runes," by Ralph H. Blum and Susan Loughan. Any set will do – however this one specifically for healing is apropos for new beginnings and the like. Light some incense and draw five runic stones from the bag and lay them out in a row vertically, going toward you. This is also fun because the stones are shaped like little eggs.

The first stone runic symbol that you draw symbolizes “heart in the past (overview),” and how that can be influencing your current situation. The second will represent the present, and what you will most likely be grappling with right now. The third stone represents “surrender” or an obstacle for you to overcome. And much like a tarot reading, the last rune will be the future, if you continue on this current path.

Decorate your now boiled egg with the symbol of the last rune of your reading. Peel, eat, and meditate on what you have learned. When you are done, toss the remainders of the shell into a planter outside that should bloom when spring gets fully underway.

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Today is the Spring or Vernal Equinox, also known to ancient Anglo-Saxons Pagans as Ostara, from which the word Easter is derived. For many, today marks the beginning of spring. For others, it is its midpoint. Either way however, everyone is in agreement that winter is over and summer not too far off. It is a time of change, renewal, and fertility as the natural world awakens from its cold slumber in the temperate parts of the northern hemisphere.

As always we’ve gathered all of our related posts as well as those we found across the internet that we thought you might enjoy . We hope you have a great time this spring!

I like the alternative name for vernal, or Spring, equinox - equilux, the equal light, this brief balance before we tip into the increasing daylight and lengthening days, the 'doing-ness' part of the year.

At this point when the the earth is equally poised between light and darkness, what stories do you tell yourself?  How do you frame your life's passage? Is there a single, unifying theme or thread? Or is it a tapestry with intricate workings of warp and weft? Where is the balance between the personal and universal in your story?

I offer what I offer
I give what I give
I share what I share
I am who I am…

When planning a ritual involving children, I always have to remind myself to keep it short and simple! This simple ritual of spring welcome is perfect for family or a small group of friends. It can also be adapted to enjoy alone. This ritual is designed to be done at night around a campfire and to be followed by a drum circle, but can easily be adapted to day time (perhaps with a fresh flower mandala to gather around instead of a fire). It can take place anytime between March 21 and mid-May and still feel seasonally appropriate.

It's March, which here in the Northern Hemisphere marks the beginning of Spring. Back on the Dakota prairies where I grew up, March often blew in like a lion with brisk winds and rains, blowing away the last of the snow and ice. (Though sometimes it brought more snow...) Here in Texas, March comes in a little more gently most years, with warm balmy days and rain. Occassionally we end up with tornadoes and thunderstorms to mark the beginning of Spring, though those will often come closer to the end of the month.

However March manifests, it's one of my favorite months of the year. The Earth feels like she is taking a long, languid stretch after the cold Winter. Life begins to stir. It's time to till the soil, to plant seeds, to make ready for the growing season.

I just spent two months in the United States and got to see spring in three different places. Really, I got to see three different springs. 

My first spring was in San Francisco, which was unaccountably hot. The last time I was in San Francisco, in the July of their summer, I needed my winter coat. This February I needed t-shirts, which I hadn’t packed. It was hot. Not just mildly warm, but as if I’d arrived in the middle of summer, except it wasn’t. There were leaves on the trees, magnolias in full bloom, shedding those deep-red-purple centred white petals onto the street. I felt completely disoriented, particularly as I’d come from my own Blue Mountains where – in summer – I’d been needing to wear several jumpers. 

The week of the Spring Equinox, we got snow, lots of it: almost 2 feet feel in 12 hours, with a biting wind turning it into a full blown spring blizzard. Schools and offices were closed for 2 days, the roads were an icy mess, and it was really cold. It was hard, then, to start spring-cleaning or open the windows to invite in a freshening breeze. While snow poured into my flowerbeds, it didn’t feel appropriate to charge seeds, bless tools or prepare an offering to be left in swirl of icy snowflakes. Celebrating Ostara, regardless of what the calendar said, was the last thing on my mind.

Then, a few mornings later, I went outside, and things were...different. Yes it was cold, and the snow lingered on the lawn and had hardened into frozen slush in the street. But the cold air was not as sharp as I expected. In fact, there was a softness to it despite the chill. I could smell something too—something like soil or pollen, something almost floral. And unlike the stony silence of deep winter, with only the wind and traffic sounds in the air, I heard birds, I could hear several different trills and twees, and I noticed a froth of activity in my neighbors' cedar tree, as it was literally shaking with dozens of tiny gray wrens hopping in and out of its branches.