I’ve been taking note of the impending signs of Spring since Imbolc, really. Crocuses and hyacinths are popping up, tree buds are beginning to form, and bird song, such as the strangely melodic rusted gate call of the great tit or the gentle throaty coo of pigeons and doves, sounds that I haven’t heard since last Summer. Sounds that set my heart aflutter. And great drifts of cheerful yellow daffodils lining the roads and paths and providing bursts of intense warming colour certainly herald the coming of the season. But we’re not quite there yet.
The Worm Moon of March is also a sign. It was so named by the Native Americans because the humble little earthworms are beginning their beneficial, necessary work beneath our feet as Mother Earth begins to warm up from Her frosty slumber. They also supply a plentiful food source for the returning birds. One of my most treasured moments is being followed along by a few little robins who greatly appreciate my work in the soil as the upturned earth makes it easier for them to get a free meal. As a gardener and total nature baby, I am keenly aware of the incredible impact not only of worms but also of the complex, dynamic ecosystem living, breathing beneath our feet, which provides the perfect environment for plants to grow. And by plants, I, of course, mean our food that provides sustenance; our medicine that provides healing; our trees that provide the very oxygen we breathe; and our flora that gives backbone to our magic.
And we take the soil for granted. Yet, it is a diverse, complicated universe pulsating with life in the dark, a united nations of microbes, bacteria, fungi, protozoa, invertebrates and insects that sustain life above. As above, so below. We are increasingly aware of the decimating impact that losing our pollinating insects, such as bees, will have on the sustainability of life on Earth. We’d no longer be able to grow the food we eat. But it is from the soil beneath us that the flowers, herbs and plants that provide nourishment and nectar for our pollinators to carry from stem to stem grow in a glorious, symbiotic, co-dependent circle. For as the plants have provided sustenance above, they wither and return to the soil, replenishing below.
For me, there’s a deep lesson to be learned. One I do not always heed. The energies of this full moon are hopeful, teaming with life and vitality, but speak very much to the fact that we need to pay closer attention to the hidden things, to the currents all around us. Stop, listen, look, and make a note. I can remember many years ago, when my youngest son, who is now a strapping man about to become a father, was just a little boy. I was sitting with my children in a field (as you do!) and I asked them to put their hands on the ground, close their eyes, and just listen. Could they feel the energy from the Earth in their hands? My daughter eagerly said, ‘Yes, I can feel it. My hands are tingling!’ and my impish little son responded cheekily but with real conviction and fervour, ‘I can feel it in my butt.’
That has been a lesson I also carry with me. A remembrance not to take yourself too seriously. Lest I become a bit too grandiose and self-important, I remember that moment and how we just fell about laughing, and it all felt very vital, and live, and real to us.
One final thought before I wish you well from this full moon to the next. The Worm Moon of March is not the first full moon of the Spring. It is the final full moon of Winter. It is transitional and changeable and a reminder that warmth and light are returning, but there is still cold and dark to come. It is a whispered promise of sunshine and abundance and smiles as it says ‘endure for just a while longer.’
Tatia