The First Robin Of Spring

Early this morning, my husband called me over to our back door. “Bend down low, and look up high” he said. There in the bare branches of Grandmother Maple sat two plump red-breasted robins.

when i was a child, my mother taught me to make a wish when i saw the first robin of spring.

Living in a northern climate, our flora and fauna changes seasonally. The return of the red-breasted robin has always been a harbinger of the weather turning fair, a sure sign that spring is on it’s way.

 

seeing the first two (!!) robins of the year this morning on the vernal equinox feels especially auspicious.

 

I’m not sure where our family tradition of wishing on the first robin of spring comes from. I do my best to spread this cheerful tradition amongst those I know, but I have not yet met anyone else who is readily familiar with it. Is it a cultural tradition from our familial ancestors? Did my grandmother teach it to my mother when she was a child? I’ll have to do some sleuthing…

it does make me ponder what other unique familial traditions abound out there.

It is my belief that crafting our own personal traditions and rites are the most empowering ways with which to understand the universe as it unfolds around us. We can adapt time honoured traditions to suit our own personal relationship with the environmental or calendar event, or we can make up entirely new ones to mark those special occasions and rites of passage. Since we all come from a long line of witches – and I truly believe that, because even the most mundane of us are constantly working spells whether we are aware of that or not – we have not only the right and the ability, but the responsibility to manifest the reality we wish to inhabit.

so craft that new tradition: wish upon a springtime robin, skip a stone across the water on the first day of summer and assign meaning to how many skips it makes, cast your dreams upon the first red maple of autumn, or inscribe your goals in the first snowfall of winter… it’s all valid!

Regardless as to whether the a tradition of wishing upon the first robin of spring is centuries old, or newly minted by my mother’s imagination, it is a seasonal rite of passage that I honour annually with care and reverence. Spotting that first robin is a gift that my mother gave me as a child to further connect with Mother Earth and Father Sky, to tap into the seasonal swing of energy, and I will continue to share and participate this tradition for as long as we have springtime robins to spot.

Does your family have any unique seasonal traditions? I’d love to learn about them if you are willing to share in the comments!

I wish you all a blessed season, whether your region is rising into the light, or easing into the dark. Blessed be your journey.