A visitor from bland San Diego asked me which season I like best in Oregon. “The one I’m in,” was the honest answer. Summer is an eager bride, all tricked out with gauzy flowers and butterflies. Autumn is abundance, generosity abounding. Winter is nesting, quiet, slow. Spring is exuberance, recklessness and exploding fertility. How could I choose?

Tennyson, when he was 31, had a Victorian manner of speaking about primal things. “In the spring, a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.”

Pablo Naruda was vivid in his enthusiastic seduction, which is part of continuing life. “I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.” Oh, to be a cherry tree in spring! Imagine the hunger and anticipation! Even better ... remember.

Why write in dour February of spring? Because we need daffodils marching through the woods like visions of hope under glowering skies. And because the traditions of the Irish Celts celebrated the return of spring on Feb 1. As I’ve often noted here, Ireland’s climate is near to ours; much of the plant life, native customs and mythology are parallel to our area.

On the first day of February, “Imbloc,” winter ended and spring began. It is mid-way between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. Its name translates to “in the belly,” apparently in reference to the pregnancy and lactation of goats, sheep and cattle.

Days are longer, if still sodden. There seems to be a relationship with modern Ground Hog’s Day, Feb. 2, and Imbloc. In Ireland, the tale is told of an old witch who looked each year for a few dry sticks to build a fire to warm her bones. If she found them, winter weather would persist another dreary six weeks. Just as if the ground hog sees its shadow, the same happens. I can’t follow the logic, but there it is. It also the birthday of my grandson Aaron’s partner, Shawn, to whom this column is dedicated.

Animals that mate in spring give birth in late summer or early autumn. Their mothers have been well-fed during their gestation and for the first weeks of life the weather’s mild and food plentiful.

After Patrick converted significant parts of the Irish populace to Christianity, the goddess Brigid was incorporated into Saint Brigid. Strangely enough, the stories of her springtime magic are pious mirrors of the goddess’. Will wonders never cease?

The attributes of nurturing femininity are those associated with spring. Generosity. The occasional miracle rewarding the gallant and beautiful. Bounty. Forgiveness.

Spring is held to be feminine in nature. Perhaps it is the pattern of storm and sun, remarkably high tides that relate to the moon. The moon is often held to be feminine because it is no two nights the same. This in contrast to the stability and predictability of the sun. For more information check out “The Encyclopedia of Celtic Mythology and Folklore.” Patricia Monaghan is the author.

The Irish Celts build a whole metaphorical alphabet from plants. The one associated with February and spring is the willow. Willow is a good basketry plant and the bark has a compound to relieve pain, much as aspirin does. Small birds nest in the thickets and we all know the wind in the willows is magical.

Willow wants to live. There is nothing namby-pamby about a determined “Saille,” as it’s called in Gaelic. Let a beaver or deer graze it, the dropped twigs will root and from the stump will come multiple shoots. Resilient, determined, early and nourishing, it brings comfort and hope.

Whatever the weather as you read this, take heart. Watch for daffodil spears inviting the sun, unafraid of the rain. Look at the neon-moss thriving on branches. Watch for the return of birds: our red-tail hawk is back already. Look at the splinters and face of the f moon, knowing Brigid is about, doing her effective best to awaken light and fertility. The bright half of the Celestial Circle is here: the three darkest months are behind us. Celebrate!

Peg Elliott Mayo writes from the Coast Range. She invites comment at uncommonideas@rivervoices.com and readers to her blog: www.peak.org/~pegmayo/