Welcome, Spring
#BlackGirlWinter is over, which makes me sad. I always feel a bit down watching winter leave. It is such a time of rest and reflection for me. Still, one of the joys of following nature-based traditions/religions is that each season brings with it celebration and revelation. And so: Onward. Welcome, Spring!
Photo by Arno Smit on Unsplash
As I type this, the temperature is hovering around the mid-50s but in the next week, it will swing down to the high 40s and up to 70. Next week will go from the 40s to mid-80s. This is normal for Baltimore, where we don’t make final decisions on spring until it’s almost time for summer. We always offer winter a chance to stay just a little bit longer, trying with desperation to fend off the humidity and hellmouth heat that come with June-October.
Those few weeks we allow, though? Those snatched days between ice and fire? They are radiant. Dogwoods and magnolias in bloom. Emerald green grass dripping with dew or the soft rain of midday. The sun seems to even shine sideways. Baltimoreans stretch our limbs, don our orange and head to the ballpark, crank up our dirt bikes, crack our first crabs of the season, grow in the light like black-eyed Susans.
To me, Spring feels like a grand romance between Earth and those of us who live here. She shows of for us - a coquette lifting her skirts to show just a bit of leg. We see her lacy bloomers of budding flowers, drifting on the soft breezes that shake the trees. The warmth of her smile in the sun touches and bronzes our shoulders. The birds serenade us as we dance among the bending, swaying grasses. She is altogether lovely and she knows it.
Spring is also when I start to feel myself and I don’t just mean that I’m feeling “like myself”, I also mean that I am feeling like a thing that blossoms in the spring - ripening, juicy, full-bodied, sexy. The world has warmed up enough for me to peel off layers but is not yet so hot that I want to peel off my very skin. It is the perfect time for leaning into romance and romance writing. How special then, that I had the opportunity to do that with a trusted friend and in the company of other Black women.
Last week, I and a few other lucky Black women got to experience Deesha Philyaw’s “Quickies” class, focused on writing about sex and bodies. It was glorious. I got to learn from my friend as teacher and witness the creativity and skill of Black women as we leaned into expressing desire, writing about human connection, and laying it all bare on the page (so to speak). I got to be myself as a writer in front of strangers - every raunchy and sticky-sweet word proffered without shame. More than anything else, I got to say, “Romance, love, sex … they’re all I want to write about. They’re all I ever want to write about. Nothing is more serious than Black women being loved sexily, sweetly, messily, wholly, well. Nothing is more important than talking about how we are to be worshipped and adored and yearned after without cease.”
If you ever see the chance come around again: Take that class. Or any other Deesha offers because she’s kind of a big deal. Which, by the way, the cover reveal of “The True Confessions of First Lady Freeman”?! If you haven’t seen it, run go look. And preorder!
Time for you to spend some time outside, isn’t it? Yeah, it is. Go get some fresh air. And listen to this while you do it:
#joy365: If you haven’t been watching Artemis II, what’s wrong with you?! As a Cancerian woman, I am enamored with this mission, these people, and this visit to my ruling planet.
I love you to the moon and back! May this newborn Spring be good to you and yours. Talk soon. Mwah.