Today being the tipping point between winter and spring, I thought to wake Poseidon Phytalmius from his slumber. This picture is illustrative of what my shrine to the plant-nourisher looks like in snow, but today is a bit different. At least 18 inches of snow have fallen since I went to sleep, and there was no evidence of the sleeping god under that thick blanket.
Using the azalea and the slope of the land, I made my best approximation of where he was underneath, and poured him a libation of wine upon the snow. It was fluffy enough that I am sure some wine got to the ground, but deep enough that I haven’t a clue if it landed upon his face, or missed the mark completely.
Such is the uncertainty and certainty of life. I cannot tell if my offering was received, but I do know that Phytalmius shall in time awaken, and the nourished buds shall again burst forth with life. I don’t even know if my own shall be long enough to see that day, but I’m certain that I am not needed for the cycle to again pass through this stage.
Xaire, Poseidon Phytalmius. Awake!