It is spring and, in the air, there is newness.
Fleeting reprise from bitter winter and scathing summer. Secretly, it’s my favourite season. The air shifts, the flowers bloom—all over the city, on campus—the wind that blows from the mountains is mild, the sunshine like pale honey. Everything, to borrow the words of a favourite poet, begins afresh, afresh, afresh. The world a clean slate. Perhaps, it seems to hint, this year, we can be bolder, better. We can be kinder, write more, listen more, tell more stories, read poetry. This is the note of hope and expectancy that I cradle while sitting to write this for Plot Number Two. We have an issue behind us, and an issue, among many, to look forward to. We are Janus, the two-headed God, looking back and into the future at the same time.
We are filled with ideas, with excitement. There are plans for many literary things—contests and giveaways, new journal sections, and writing groups. And we begin, and continue here, with our second issue. Echoing with voices in many tongues and seasons. Talking language and love and gender and light. Along with spring, this is what fills me with hope. The process of putting together a journal. The mere fact that people—students—do so. The submissions, and editing, the frustration and fury. The bringing together, carefully, of words into a space which they all share and transform. There are poems here on contradictions and mother tongues, prose on family and memory.
How much, I like to think, a journal is a garden.
One we tend and nurture, not just for now, but always also for the future.
For we know that while winter may be coming, so is spring.
Sit out on the grass, smell the flowers, look at the trees, and read this.