Death of Winter

For winter’s rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
 – Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909)

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Spring arrives quietly and coyly.  She does not make grand entrances.  She plays a teasing game of hide and seek, popping in and out of our view with a faint and echoing giggle.  She is flirtatious, but innocent and child-like.  She wants you to chase her and catch her if you can, but no one ever has.  She is an apparition.  Nostalgia personified.  A playful creature who runs between the headstones of winter’s graveyard, gently placing flowers on the graves of other people’s loved ones.  She dries the tears on the cheeks of the grieving with a new warmth that pushes through the heavy clouds.  She cracks the hard protective shell they have built around themselves over the dark cold months, seemingly effortlessly like a tulip pushing up between stones.  She warms their reluctantly exposed skin, and then tickles them awake with shivers as she blows her spring breeze, raining down apple blossoms like pink and lavender kisses from a thousand goddesses. They smile in spite of themselves. She whispers warm and breathy in their ear in the early morning half-sleep.  “Wake up my dearest, the world is waiting for you.  The trees are sighing, the water is trickling and the sun is reaching out to touch you.  Come outside and play with me.  It’s time to put your sadness away with your wintery things and feel the earth beneath the souls of your feet. It’s time to open your eyes and awaken. Spring is here, it is time to live!”

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And Spring arose on the garden fair,

Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;

And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast

rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, “The Sensitive Plant”

As spring yawns and stretches itself awake, I encourage you to let go of the things that no longer serve you.  It is a time of new life, of rebirth and growth.  This glorious natural cycle does not dis-clude you.  You too are part of the whole and can take advantage of the natural energies of change and ride the wave into an improved self.  Every year the buds pop and the flowers bloom, but they are never the same as the year before, and they don’t strain to exist!  Why should you?  Why should you carry the weight and worry of the previous seasons on your shoulders?  Why can’t you be new? If you allow yourself to let go and surrender your need to feel in control of your life, you may discover your natural place as part of the whole and like nature, you will pop and bloom effortlessly into a life that flows uninhibited by the weight of the past or the fear of the future.

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Photography, Cinematography and Editing by: Michael Sanders, Electric Monk Media

Hair & Makeup by: Laura Warren, Hat Trix Hair Salon

Styling, Artistic Direction, Music & Modelling by: Tara Cole-McCaffrey, Patron of Dreams

Assisted by: Leanne Sanders, Marc Greene and Dylan Fries

WEARING:

Vintage: Victorian-inspired blouse, leather pencil skirt, rabbit fur stole, pearls and pearl earrings.

Current: leather corset by Rampant Design Leather, leather platform boots by Jeffrey Campbell

*Special thanks to my friend Accalia for lending me her gorgeous silver finger tips for this shoot.