As part of relearning who I am and reclaiming my power as I age into different seasons of my life, sometimes I have to sit with uncomfortable truths. I've had one particular one in mind lately.

The spring forest greens
from ground to sky
as if an unseen fairy godmother
slowly lifts her wand

This morning, on the day after spring officially began, I went for a short little walk in the woods. Here in central Ohio, the signs of spring have begun, but are still mostly in the "peer closely or you may not see" stage.

The other day while working in the library, I had a rite-of-passage-moment so folklorically poignant, it would have made Joseph Campbell’s eyes shimmer with tears: I was called a fairy godmother instead of a fairy.

We need to stay informed. We need to be aware. But we also need reminders that hope is out there. I’ve found solace in the fight from lists people have made online sharing “good news,” and I thought I’d make my own, but with a wonder and magic bent