Demeter, Persephone and the Seasons

Outside, the trees stand bare, without a single leaf left clinging to them. A cold wind blows through, the ground is hard and dry, and the grass will not push up out of the soil. And yet before long, right on time as every year, those dry branches will put out new buds. Grass will cover the ground in green again, and flowers will bloom everywhere. It happens every year without missing a beat. Warmth gives way to cold, green gives way to withered, and round and round they turn, one after another, forever.

The ancient Greeks explained that turning circle with a story about two goddesses, a mother and her daughter, and about the first winter the world ever knew.

Demeter was the goddess who looked after the harvest and the land. Under her care, fields everywhere stayed green, the wheat hung heavy in the ear, and the trees were laden with fruit. Demeter had a daughter named Persephone, lovely and bright like the very fields her mother tended. Persephone loved nothing more than playing among the flowers and grasses. She often went to a valley called Enna, where spring seemed to stay all year and never leave. Flowers covered the whole ground there, and their scent drifted all the way to the distant forests.

One day, Persephone went to the valley of Enna with a few friends to pick flowers. She sang as she gathered them, her arms full of white lilies and purple violets, the fold of her dress piled high with blossoms too. She laughed and played, happy as on any other day.

Just then, Hades, the god who ruled the world of the dead, was passing by in his chariot. It was drawn by four black horses that ran smoothly and quietly. Seeing Persephone in the field of flowers, Hades stopped the chariot, lifted her up into it and drove away. Persephone just had time to clutch the fold of her dress full of flowers, but the blossoms kept spilling to the ground. They left a long trail of white and purple petals behind the chariot. The chariot raced on to a river. The water blocked the way, so Hades swung his trident and struck the riverbank. All at once the earth split open into a deep, endless passage. The chariot with its four black horses carried Persephone straight down, slowly vanishing into the depths of the earth.

In the palace beneath the earth, Persephone became queen of the world of the dead. She did not cry out or struggle. But her heart was heavy with sadness. She missed the sunlight, she missed the flower fields of Enna, and most of all she missed her mother. Persephone sat quietly in the dark palace, still as dignified as a queen. Only her eyes held a sadness she could not hide.

Up on the earth, Demeter waited and waited, but her daughter did not come home. The goddess set out at once to search for her. She went everywhere, asking every mountain, every river and every forest, but no one knew where Persephone had gone.

At last, worn out and in despair, Demeter sank down beside a rock at the side of the road. Here was a goddess who had made fields everywhere green and thriving, and now she sat silent for nine days and nine nights, without eating and without resting. Sunshine gave way to moonlight, then sudden rains poured down, and still the tears of the goddess fell quietly, without end.

When she could not find her child, the pain in her heart slowly turned to anger. The goddess turned her back on the very fields she had tended day and night. "Ungrateful land," Demeter said, her voice both angry and hurt. "I gave you richness and covered you with green plants and seasons of heavy grain, yet you would not help me find my daughter. From now on, you will no longer enjoy my favor."

From that day on, the land was without her favor. The cattle dropped dead, plows broke in the hard furrows, and seeds sown in the ground would not sprout. In some places the sun scorched everything dry, and in others endless rain flooded the fields. Birds swooped down and pecked up every last grain that remained, and only thorns and weeds grew everywhere. A world that had been green all year round withered in a short time into one long winter that would not end.

While the earth was wasting away like this, a spring nymph named Arethusa came to see Demeter. The stream of Arethusa flowed deep under the ground. It wound its way right through the world of the dead, then rose up to the surface somewhere else. That was how Arethusa had seen Persephone down below. The nymph told Demeter that Persephone was still sad, but no longer looked afraid. She sat there with the dignified bearing of a queen, the queen of the world of the dead.

Hearing this, Demeter at last knew what had happened to her daughter. The goddess went to the god Zeus and begged him to step in and bring Persephone back. Zeus agreed, but he set one condition. Persephone could return to her mother for good only if she had eaten nothing at all during her time in the world of the dead.

Zeus sent the god Hermes down to the world of the dead, carrying with him the warmth of spring. The winged sandals of Hermes skimmed through the darkness under the earth, all the way to the great hall of Hades. There he passed on the word of Zeus, demanding that Hades send Persephone back to her mother. Hades did not hold her back. But during her days in that place, Hades had once given her a pomegranate, and Persephone had tasted a few of the sweet seeds inside. Only a few seeds, nothing more. Yet by the law of the gods, anyone who had tasted anything at all in the world of the dead could never leave it completely again.

So the gods talked it over and reached an agreement. Persephone would stay with her mother for half of each year. For the other half, she would go back down to live with Hades, as queen of the world of the dead.

When Demeter heard the news, her heart grew much lighter. The goddess accepted the agreement and let the land turn green again as it had been before. Each time Persephone came back to her, Demeter was so happy that the whole earth burst into bloom along with her joy. Trees put out buds, flowers and leaves showed off their colors, and the harvests grew rich again. But each time the appointed day came, Persephone had to go back down to Hades, and Demeter grew sad again. The land fell quiet along with her. Trees dropped their leaves, grass and flowers withered, and everything waited for the day her daughter would return.

This is the story the ancient Greeks told one another to explain the seasons of the year, and it has been told ever since. It is not something measured by machines or by books of astronomy. It is a story grandmothers tell grandchildren and mothers tell their children, from one generation to the next. Tonight, outside, the branches are still bare, and the cold wind still blows. But before long, right on time as every year, those branches will bud again. The sky and earth will grow warm, and flowers and leaves will shine bright everywhere, just like the day Persephone came home to her mother. And each time the seasons turn, people remember a mother still waiting for her daughter to come back, year after year, without end.