It's time for Spring to Spring
The spring equinox takes place when the Earth’s axis is tilted neither towards the sun nor away from it.
As I sit and write on another gloomy day in February, I cannot help looking forward to March and the meteorological beginning of spring on the first, St David’s Day. All around me is the evidence of the new life waiting to burst from the earth as daffodils, crocus and even primroses defy the wind and the rain. Spring traditionally begins, though, on the Vernal Equinox, which this year falls on 20th March.
The word ‘Equinox’ comes from the Latin, combining the words equi, (equal) and nox, (night). The spring equinox takes place when the Earth’s axis is tilted neither towards the sun nor away from it, giving the impression that day and night last for an equal amount of time.
Equinoxes take place simultaneously in the northern and southern hemispheres, but with the seasons reversed. So, whilst we ring in the spring this March, those south of the equator will be entering astronomical autumn.
February, the Unique Month.
To the Romans, February was a time to clear the land. We prepare for Easter.
February is a unique month. It is the shortest, having twenty-eight days unless of course it is a leap year when there are twenty-nine. In Welsh, it is known as “y mis bach” meaning ‘little month’ and being shorter than the other months, it is possible that February passes without having a full moon.
There is something about February, though, that is a relief after the gloomy days of January. Perhaps it is that it is a short month, or perhaps it is when we begin to notice the lengthening days beckoning us towards the spring.
Of course, we have the Romans to thank for February, who added it together with January to complete their calendar. The word February comes from the Roman Februa, named after a festival of purification that was much like a ‘spring cleaning’ to purge evil spirits and prepare for spring. Traditionally, the land was cleansed or prepared for spring planting.
I cannot help but find it interesting that, even in modern times, there is still a ritual held at this time of year that perpetuates the idea of cleansing and preparing as we enter Lent.
Journeying through the Festival Season
Journeying through the heart of our tradition
In December you can hardly escape the familiar Christmas songs heard in shops, on the radio and anywhere where music is played over a loudspeaker. To be honest, I love some of the old songs, but one which really springs to mind is ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ by Chris Rea. He wrote it while stuck in holiday traffic, travelling from London to Middlesbrough with his wife in their Austin Mini. Apparently, the record label wouldn’t pay for his train ticket home!
For me, it makes me think of one of my sons driving home on leave, navigating the darkness and weather, along with so many others, in the expectation of the joy of home and family.
This year, even Marks and Spencer is advertising its Christmas goodies with an advert of being on the motorway in a traffic jam at Christmas. Journeying then is something that so many of us are familiar with at this time of year, as an estimated 29.3 million journeys are taken over the Christmas period.
November - Darkness
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
November is truly the time when the approach of winter and darker days becomes a reality. Following a mild autumn, even I have finally put the heating on and find myself in the dark while walking my dogs first thing in the morning.
As a small child, darkness was something that made me feel anxious. Sounds that were a part of the normal creaking of the house seemed to magnify and my inability to see properly in the dark unsettled me. As an adult who is not anxious in the same way, and in fact would much rather have total darkness in order to sleep, I can still be unsettled with concerns that seem to have literally grown out of all proportion, until exposed to the light of day when they shrink back like weeds under a scorching sun.
October- Death Café
Join others for the first meeting of the Death Café.
Tuesday 4th November 2.00 to 3.30pm at The Barn, Woolacombe.
This October marks a sad anniversary for me. It was a year ago that my beloved husband unexpectedly died.
Forgive me my indulgence in sharing this with you, but over this year as I have struggled to learn to live a new life, I have been reflecting on the difficult subject of death itself.
A couple of months after Les died, I was kindly invited to a function and was introduced by a well-meaning soul as ‘Susan who has just lost her husband.’
Susan, who has lost her husband. How very careless I thought! I haven’t lost him; he hasn’t travelled somewhere without telling me, passed away, departed, fallen asleep or any of the euphemisms we use to try to soften the subject of death. He has simply died. He is dead, and at times it has been agony.
As a widow, I am no different to any other bereaved partner. There are so many of you who will know the agony of separation from someone hugely significant to you and it doesn’t have to be a spouse. Yet, as a Christian minister who cannot hide away from death, who is called to speak hope into its finality, I increasingly feel that a conversation needs to be opened about our fears, our curiosity, our discomfort and our awkwardness with even saying the word – death.
As the autumn continues with increasingly shorter days and the prospect of winter ahead; as we turn once again to the festivals surrounding death – Halloween, All Souls, All Saints, and of course, Remembrance, it seems to be a good time to meet together to listen, to discuss and if it is appropriate, to share our thoughts and feelings about an incredibly important subject.