As it senses the minutely subtle changes to day length, temperature and sunlight the underground bulb reanimates and reaches toward our star.
It was and remains an act of magic and awe, a reaffirmation of livingness and renewal.
Ever since I can remember, I have sought out the first bulb, shyly emerging into the biting winds of a harsh winter day.
It is for me an annual rite of passage, a liminal calendric moment where beauty is birthed from the cold barren wasteland.
The year is about to turn as the earth completes another effortless spiral around our star.
Endless movement of life, wheels within wheels all set in the great hoop itself.
In honour of all those who have peacefully defended the earth this year. Particularly the Lakota of Standing Rock.
Omaka Teca Oiyokipi
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Photo courtesy of the author.