wasted

"I like to think of hope as a fact," she said.  I was listening to the radio.  This was a promo for some show I'd never hear, a singer-songwriter writing whiny songs.  That she felt were hopeful.  "I like to think of hope as a fact, because no matter what you are going through, you do get through it."

Hope at Yule is faith, and faith is what you believe in that you know isn't true.  Hope at Yule is a head down slog, one foot then the next.  Let's have a party, in fact, lets have several because there might not ever be another chance.

Hope at Imbolc is something you can almost smell but not quite identify.  It is not the parking lot outside of Little Caesar's; it is not upwind of your neighbor's grill; it is not french fries even when the oil is fresh.  Hope at Imbolc is remembering that I knew what my mother's perfume smelled like.

But hope when the coltsfoot blooms, that is a fact.

"What looks like a dandelion on top of an asparagus stalk?" he asked.  "Oh, that's coltsfoot," we answered.  It only looks like that for a day or two, the whole bloom takes maybe a week, maybe two?  Then it has leaves that resemble a colt's foot, both of which vary a good deal in size and outline.

After coltsfoot it will all come hard and fast.  The season of behind already will start, grown from the season of there's nothing I can get done.  I haven't checked for birthroot yet and won't gather any but I always love to admire it.  Tennessee iris are up in droves but not bloomed yet.  Will I catch and remember a sarvis tree or three this year?  Will the grapevines grow?  How much of the orchard can we get cleaned out?  Front pasture?  Milk?  Rocks on the road?

Coltsfoot likes to grow on waste places.  It grows where not much else will, there, amongst the gravel and rocks, unnoticed.  What plants you are drawn to will tell you a lot about yourself.  I like being a waste places girl.  There are so many waste places plants -- mullein, canes, elderberries.  There are too many waste places.

This cattail may not be a waste plant, but it is a survivor, still standing, against all odds.  Babies are sprouting all around it.  The light was hitting it beautifully and it called to me.

Listen.