Life Begin Again

I have always loved the liminal seasons. My favorite holidays are Thanksgiving in the Fall and Easter in the Spring. These holidays (especially Thanksgiving) are primarily centered around the gathering together of family and the sharing of food and drink. They are fraternal, life-affirming, celebrative days. A close third would be St. Patrick's Day, always lying on the edge of spring like a drunk on the doorstep of life. Last year, my last in Sonoma County, I created a joyous little slideshow celebrating the return of the forsythia and the calla lilys to Petaluma.

This year, Spring feels even more significant, coming, as it does after such a long, often dark, frustrating journey. So much is still left to be done, even in the "sliver by the river" where things are mostly okay. Despite that, there is a real sense of starting over... a chance for life to begin again.

Last year the forsythia in the garden surprised me. In a matter of days it moved from looking like dead sticks that I nearly pulled up and threw away to an explosion of yellow that literally knocked me back on my heels. This year it was a similar expression of life, when right in the middle of a big pile of debris I spied the green of spring popping out, relentless and joyous, as if to say, "It's time to get up! Let's go play!"

When I first came back to New Orleans at the end of October, I noticed three things: the complete lack of green, the obvious absence of birds, and the total disappearance of big giant roaches (known as "Palmetto Bugs" in Florida, where I grew up, as if that made their existence more tolerable). I noticed the first green a few days ago (it had been around longer than that, but I really only noticed it this week), and for the last several mornings I've been awakened by bird song. The roaches aren't back yet, but I imagine they're on their way.

This year, I might even be glad to see them.