Ode to the Land: The Other Side of Spring

By Kristine Karpinski

Spring always catches us a little off guard. We winter for months, wondering how long the snow will last, and then suddenly green things are poking through the soil, and spring is here. The land wakes with a kind of wild abandon.

There’s something about this season that feels like a deep exhale from the earth herself.

Damp, fragrant, pulsing with life, the threshold between blossom and blaze, bud and burn.

The other day, I headed out with bare ankles and a hopeful heart, forgetting, just for a moment, about the ticks and mosquitoes who are also out celebrating. The tiny Beltane gatecrashers. They may not be invited, but they are persistent in their passion. I couldn’t help but admire their timing. Seeking warmth, connection, and a little sweetness, just like the rest of us. Everyone’s trying to feast on spring.

And not only feast. The mating calls start up, frogs croaking with wild abandon, red-winged blackbirds making their big declarations, and foxes wailing like love-struck ghosts. The whole forest feels charged, like it’s in the throes of some great, giddy flirtation. 

But spring, for all its sweetness, has another side, the one we don’t often see in poems or seed catalogues. After the melt, I find the quiet remains of winter’s last stories. Feathers. Bones. Tufts of fur. A rabbit’s leg, a crow’s wing, a neat little owl pellet at the base of a tree. These don’t disturb me, they move me. There’s something honest in them. They’re offerings, really. Reminders that life feeds life, that nothing is wasted. I tuck a feather in my basket, whisper a small thank you. These are altar pieces, in their way.

This, to me, is the other side of spring. The untamed, unfiltered side. The part that’s not dressed in pastel or wrapped in gentle metaphors. It’s loud and bright and a little bit muddy. It’s filled with longing and pollen and the ache of reawakening.

At Beltane, I meet it all with open arms. I light fires. I crown myself with blossoms. I touch the earth barefoot, even if just for a breath, to remember where I come from.

Here’s to the bugs and the blossoms, the bones and the birdsong. To the foxes calling out across the dark and to whatever within us answers back. To the messy beauty of waking up again. Here’s to the land, unfiltered, unafraid, generous as ever. And here’s to us meeting it, wild-hearted, from the other side of winter.

Kristine hosts a variety of offerings - Sound Nidra, Mystery in Motion, etc. Check them out on our website.

Ninth Wave Arts operates on the land at Carp Ridge EcoWellness Centre. We strive to honour, collaborate, and cooperate with all beings here. We aim to stand present and flow in cycle with each other, the land, trees and critters as our inspiration.