For the dverse Haibun Monday, I have worked the haiku I wrote earlier today into a piece of prose, again based on Hugh’s birth on a very snowy Easter night.
I watch the light die on this spring evening so unlike the night you were born. The wisteria hangs immobile, filling the air with such heady scent, and the birds settle into silence. Moon soars, pale against the blue, in a sky without cloud, and vine leaves open in dark green clusters. Hard to believe that on this night twenty years ago, there was no light. All was shadow, densely clustered, and snow fell thick and heavy. I put on boots to tramp to the maternity hospital arm in arm with your father, ploughing through the white and stopping to let the contractions pass. It was dark and cold and white flakes blurred our vision, and we feared for the next hours.
Wisteria hangs and I bask in the golden scent. Sun has set and the sky is dark. Roses are in bud and the pansies turn their opulent faces to anyone who will look at them. The shadows fall soft and scented now; there is no fear hiding in their depths. You are all that your birth promised, big and strong and fair, and snow has never fallen at Easter since then.
Easter birth pangs grip,
snow falls hard, a soft blanketโ
from chagrin springs joy.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
Oh I love this… and I also remember how different the Easter can be… of course nowadays I always go North to get some real winter :-)… what a memory with that walk through the snow to the maternity ward. It makes a special memory.
It was still blowing a blizzard when we walked home againโall three of us ๐
I too love this and the “golden scent of the wisteria”. what an incredible memory. And it hasn’t snowed on Easter since. this is truly lovely and the haiku is perfectly splendid…from chagrin springs joy.
They were freak weather conditions, transport strikes, and a bad prognostic for the baby. It all turned out glorious in the end ๐
It does sound that way and I am so very glad.
Thank you ๐
This is lovely. I can imagine the wisteria now, and the trampling through the snow then. (That must have been fun while in labor!)
My brother (twelve years older) was born in April. My mom says there was a heat wave right before, and she was so hot and didn’t have summer maternity clothing. Then either when he was born or shortly after, it got very cold. It may have snowed then, too.
There was a public transport strike and so the taxis went on strike too. And it was Easter so staff was short. And the weather was freaky. We were lucky it all turned out so well!
Well, walking is good during early labor. Fortunately, you didn’t slip.
I had an arm to hang onto ๐
Lovely transition from one glimpse to a longer, translucent memory, Jane.
Thanks Bill ๐
Your son made an entrance into this world to be remembered. Mother Nature hasn’t thrown such an Easter welcoming party since, I gather. A great read!
Nope, it was quite exceptional. Given the build up to his birth, apocalyptic scenes were expected ๐
“…the pansies turn their opulent faces to anyone who will look at them.”
Awesome!
Thank you! I love pansies ๐
Well what a tale that is and one that had to be told…and I imagine gets a re-telling or two.
Nice to contrast the then with the now and I really like the Haiku.
I had four babies at the Hรดtel Dieu in Paris and walked there each time. But the blizzard was a killer. And it was still blizzarding when I came out five days later.
Crazy!!!
Every aspect of it ๐
An excellent haibun, capped with a killer haiku. We sometimes get a snow storm in April here in WA state, but yes, it is freakish weather. I remember working in Palm Springs one winter, 85 degrees one day, and snow flurries the next. Imagine what the tourists thought the they deplaned that day.
Thanks Glenn ๐ I’m just lucky I suppose ๐
Ah! I could smell the wisteria – wonderful imagery in your story-telling!
Such a difference! You wouldn’t think it was the same country. Thanks Jilly ๐
Nice remembrance of your child’s birth on a snowy Easter.
Thank you Frank ๐
Reblogged this on Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung – Aus und รผber Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!.
Thank you!
My eldest was also born on Easter Day, smiles ~ Love how the fear turned to joy with the easter birth ~ Your personal share and haiku are splendid Jane ~
Thank you, Grace. My grandmother’s third child and first son (my case too) was also born on Easter Sunday. History repeating itself ๐
This was just lovely. A glimpse into something very personal. A memory forever treasured. Sweet…
What a memory, Jane! I think we had Easter snow more often back then. I love the way you address you words to your son. I also love the circular structure of the haibun, which the haiku crowns beautifully.
Thank you Kim ๐ Birth is such a drama anyway, I don’t remember that the additional irritations like blizzard and transport strike made it much worse. I was too worried about what I was going to produce!
I remember that!
Pretty standard feeling I imagine ๐
“You are all that your birth promised, big and strong and fair, and snow has never fallen at Easter since then.” ~ love this!
Thanks Maria ๐
This is such a wonderful haibun, Jane, I read it twice. Absolutely beautiful.
Thank you, Jane ๐ All births are momentous, but for this one, so many things seemed to have conspired to make it memorable!
its amazing how we as mother’s can remember every fine detail of each child’s birth but sometimes forget their birthdays, loved your self-portrait here Jane. That was a memorable walk in the snow.
One I won’t forget! But it’s true, I have to think about birthdays if I’m asked ๐
That’s a wonderful read with a happy note….beautiful Haiku…you have painted that scene so well….
Thank you, Sreeja ๐ Birth is wonderful and occasionally the elements join in the fun too ๐
A beautiful story (memory)
Thanks Janice ๐ One to treasure.
:))