I am borrowing from Tolkien simply because it is April 23rd and the weather has not quite chosen direction. The wind blows glorious clouds through a turbulent sky, and yet the sun peaks above it in an anxious beckoning. All the signs of new life bud, the dogwood trees burst color, the apple and pear are summoning the bees. Peas are at their rows of wicker, ready to climb and the heavens kiss them with heavy dew.
Vána is Middle Earth’s answer to sadness. ‘The Ever young’, an eternally youthful spirit of the Valar who is happiest when the crocuses play peek a boo, the birds sing, and gardens thrive.
I love to see her face. She tells me the darkest hour has faded into dawn, that winter’s cold grave has melted into the tender flesh of a child and that through all the grief and sadness of what we mourn behind us, a brilliant light of life shines ahead