Brightness

For those who live in the northern hemisphere where your gardens face south, the end of February brings with it lighter days and snowdrops.

February is a short month – the kind of month that has to stand on tiptoes to see over the rest of the year. August borrowed a day and never gave it back, used it to buy some ripe pears and a picnic rug and fell asleep before his dept was paid. February is short and dressed in the red. Red for luck, red for the Chinese New Year, red for the Valentine’s rose petal kisses.

There is no China Town here; a few Chinese supermarkets and acupuncturists with waving cats beckoning you in through the window.

The cat didn’t make it on to the Chinese zodiac. Twelve animals for twelve years, but the cat, the cat didn’t make it.

When the Jade emperor called a meeting to decide on the calendar, the animals had to cross a river to reach him. Deciding they were weak swimmers, the cat and the rat rode on the back of the ox. Right in the middle, where the current was fastest and the water deepest, the rat pushed the cat into the river and when he reached the shore he ran ahead of the ox to be the first at the feet of the emperor. The other eleven animals arrived, with the pig (sating hungry on his way) arriving last. The cat, wet and half drowned, missed the meeting. But on the sly rat, the cat would have revenge.

This is the year of the snake. The snake arrived to the Jade emperor wrapped around the leg of the horse and follows the dragon. Where the bold dragon marked a year of change, the snake – similar only in his scales – marks a year of steadiness and focus. Discipline he hisses.

On the eve of the lunar year only the fireworks light up the moonless sky. Families are together and houses are clean, so that the pregnant moonbeams can fall upon the floorboards as her moon belly swells. And when the moon is full, then the lanterns are lit and with them hope for the year.