Spring! The excitement of seeing the first crocus open, of spying a wild iris, of rejoicing in the sturdiness of the daffodils emerging from under a February snowfall, their bloom tips ripening from green to yellow. We are weary of winter. We are yearning for spring. The world reawakens before our eyes. What happens after we die? In my images of the Harvest Queen (autumn) and the Crone (winter) we saw the fullness of a woman maturing from mother to queen, as age lines began to emerge on her face. Her expression from queen to crone became somber, then sad as the despair of the inevitability of death became real to the crone, and then, full acceptance as she slipped into the peace of the final sleep. Where did she go? That is the great Mystery, isn't it? In this image for the maiden, the comforting hand of the crone is upon the head of the infant ... the transfer of life energy is being completed just before the maiden awakens. And when she awakens, it is to the freshnes