Springtime in DC is a mixed bag. Weather-wise, I mean.
I remember several years of childhood in this city when "nature" mercilessly flipped from winter to summer in one heaving step. And I was left gasping in the rancid hellhole of a pollen-infused, mid-Atlantic sauna. Sneezing and sweating: not a hip combination. Unbelievable as it may seem, I was NOT a suave young chap.
But this year, Mother is giving us a break. After a mild winter, we're being treated to a mild spring. She's taking it easy on us this time. Hakuna matata. No worries, mate. Irie...
Thus the stage was set: A group of like-minded bloggers gathered in a pastoral back yard in northern Virginia to indulge in a little pagan revelry: Pole-dancing, Beltane-style. Mayday. 'Tis the season, baby: the green loins are fertile and there's dancing to be done. To quote the great prophet Silver Convention:
Get up and boogie...
M and I hadn't danced a maypole since Tucson, years ago. We were still courting then, and the Tucson Area Wiccan/Pagan Network (TAWN) held public rituals for each of the Sabbats. And, uh, an ancient communal fertility ceremony seemed like a fine "date" idea for a new couple, yeh?
One marvelous result of that ritual were the human connections: Through the officiating Priestess (a lovely creature in her own right), we met a pair of Druids that would become close friends and would later officiate our own wedding/handfasting. So I guess it WAS a fertility rite after all.
More than a decade later, here we are at a maypole again with a new set of friends this time: A ragtag bunch of bloggers from near and very far, weaving the pole like happy fools in the comfort of a mid-atlantic spring. A REAL spring, for once. Thanks, mom.