By Monica Shaner

We celebrate Brigid at the waning of winter. As though Brigid is a goddess of Spring. This seems strange to me in the context of the Irish lore—where the seasons are typically seen as binary: summer and winter. It doesn’t make much sense to have a Spring Deity without having Spring. Brigid’s relationship with the calendar is complicated. She is no Irish Demeter, focused on making the grain grow strong. But there is evidence of her being celebrated with corn dollies. And associations with lambing and milk. Brigid is connected to the seasons and the weather, but she is a deity of civilization, make no mistake. Perhaps the Irish, who tended not to form large cities, viewed the markers of civilization differently. She is the patron of poets, healers, and forge workers. The making of art, the healing of the sick, and the preparation for war are the very heart of organized society. I see Brigid as a patron of the warm season in the same sense. She doesn’t embody it. She inspires it.  She doesn’t write poems; she gives flashes of insight. She doesn’t do the healing; she catalyzes cures. She doesn’t fight the war; she prepares you for it. She lights the fire that makes all things possible. And as the earth rolls toward summer, she lights that fire under our asses.

Regenerative Agriculture

Shoveling compost is the kind of work Brigid likes. It’s strenuous. It takes commitment. It’s humble, but it changes the world. It is the work that makes things grow. Now is the time in my part of the world for shoveling compost into new beds.

Dr. Elaine Ingham is the mother of regenerative agriculture. Look her up. She discovered the role of soil microbes in creating healthy plants. You owe your life to the billions of tiny creatures that support the phototrophs—the lighteaters—the very center of the food web. The plants and the microbes form mostly mutualistic relationships that protect plants. Microbes live in, as well as eat, compost. When you shovel compost into your beds at this time of year, you are feeding the soil microbes. This is how we make the summer.

So, as April drives steadily toward May, I stop looking for signs of spring. The Earth doesn’t need more Brigid devotees who delight in the arrival of bluebirds, or the first trillium sighting. Inspiration is pointless unless it leads us to do the work. The soil microbes need help to make the spring in our disturbed and desolated landscapes.  My neighbors creep along the property line and peer over the fence to see the labyrinth of daffodils in my backyard. I hope it inspires them to do work, too.  I shovel the compost into the vegetable beds. I tend the seeds in my basement grow system, and then move them into the greenhouse. All in its season. Eight weeks to average last frost. Six weeks. Four. Summer surges toward me, and I feel the pressure. How can I get it all finished?

Supporting Seedlings Step 1

If you winter sowed, or if you sowed seeds in little cups on the windowsill, or in flats under grow lights, it makes no matter now. As soon as there are true leaves, there is work to be done. Dicots send up pairs of seed leaves like a landing party—unfurling their solar powered bio-panels to start gathering energy. Monocots—maize, chives, ginger—stick one finger above the ground, tasting the light. But they all quickly expand, adding new, “true” leaves, stretching roots out of their soil blocks, looking for more nutrients. Now is the time to break out your fancy potting mix and move the plants from seed trays to plug trays—or small pots, or cups. I hope you saved every drink cup from every fast-food restaurant you went to this year. Because you are going to need them. Don’t do fast food anymore? Good for you. How about those toilet paper tubes?

I like to break up these how-tos. Give in to some rumination. Talk about the meanings. The instructions are for the body. They aren’t always all that interesting to the brain. But here in the late spring, it’s hard to slow down enough to think a clear thought. It’s all the brain can do to keep the list of tasks straight. The brain has to give a little so the body can do its thing. It is its own kind of meditation to work with the natural world to make the summer.

Supporting Seedlings Step 2

Whatever you are using, when your plants have true leaves, they can be moved to a bigger pot. I wait until I have a couple of sets—as long as possible really. Usually this is when the panic sets in because there is not possibly enough room in the greenhouse. But the plants don’t care. They need to move. Go gently. Tease the seedling out carefully. Place it in a container that you have half- filled with your potting mix and then fill in around the sides. Pack lightly, like tucking a child into bed. Do it again and again. Take a break and go back tomorrow. Keep going until all of your tiny seedlings are in their big girl cups. It’s tedious, but easier than shoveling compost.

I have to go fast. This year, it’s more than 4,000 plants. All those tiny lives to be responsible for. Each one pushing a tiny radicle into the soil, stretching up with its cotyledon. Plants are strange. And each one is strange in its own way. We don’t take the time to appreciate that. We look at a garden as though across a crowded stadium. Oh, see the team colors—so bright and cheerful. But each buffoon in his team jersey with his face painted and his foam finger held high is unique. He has a family. A mother is watching from somewhere hoping to catch a glimpse of him on the tv. And so each plant must be tended to as an individual. At least until it is ready to go to the big game in the garden.

Supporting Seedlings Step 3

If you started your seeds on a windowsill or under grow lights, the growing plants may need more light than this provides. You will need to start putting them outside or in a greenhouse for a few hours every day. Remember that a car dashboard is a greenhouse in an emergency. So, if you have a car, or can borrow one, you have a backup plan. You also need to feed your plants. I recommend fish emulsion or a similar fertilizer. If you use a synthetic fertilizer, it harms the soil microbes, among other things. Follow the directions on the fish emulsion and feed your plants every week or so until they can be planted. Each plant species has its own time for this. Remember that radishes and maize are as distantly related as frogs and lions. This is the hard part, keeping the seedlings healthy and growing until they can go in the ground. But it is only a few short weeks. And you have the fire of inspiration to keep you warm.

I have a confession to make here. When I started writing these blog posts, it was as a way to address my spiritual experience to my land stewardship practices. And in the winter, that feels like a connection to deity. But once spring has truly taken hold, and I am spending hours with my plant people cursing the weather and my weak back, it isn’t about deity. Brigid lights that fire and then leaves me to the nature spirits. Inspiration is only there to get things started. A kind of executive function intervention for the soul. So, although I sort seeds with the Cailleach, and prep beds with Brigid, from here to Lughnassa, it is just me and the Faeries. It is up to me to keep the fire of inspiration burning. And to all of us to help the plant world fill the summer with life.