Ponderings on this, the first day of Spring . . .

I look out my front window here in our little terraced house this morning and the sun is shining gloriously down upon Blacon . . .  with only a few clouds in the sky.    The sky is a steady blue . . . with a few wisps of white and grey steaking across the evenness of it's colour . . .  and its a lot milder than it has been.  About what you would expect this time of year . . .

The branches of our hydrangea bushes out front are waking up . . . little buds are growing there, beginning to unfurl into leaf . . . and then bloom.   It is the same with each bush and plant in the garden as they begin to show life after a long cold Winter's sleep . . . our camelia has been blooming for a few weeks now. It bloomed early this year and the forsythia is a burst of yellow glory in the back garden. 

 Purple coloured Grape Hyacinth now dance along the bottom of the hedgerow out back . . . along with a cluster in our frong garden,  their little bells tinkling in a late March breeze . . . a breeze which nips at the fingers and has the taste of the winter still on it's lips, but not for long . . . no, not for long . . . there is no power at it's weakening soul . . . it knows it's days are numbered now . . .for today is the first day of Spring. 

There is a special warmth to the sunshine which is felt today . . .  it was not there last week, nor the week before . . . and it may take most of the morning for us to feel it for today, but it's there all the same and with each day that passes it will become stronger and much easier for us to feel  and embrace it's presence. . . it is the breathe of life which  I call the "greening" of England . . . spring unspoken . . . 

At first imperceptible, but soon unmissable . . . every trunk and branch of every bush and every tree swathes itself in the tender green flush that is spring arriving . . . it is soon as if they are enveloped in a tender green haze which grows and grows until all are swathed in it completely from head to toe.   Spring's tender green gown fit for it's Bride who is getting ready to walk down the aisle, there is no stopping her now . . .

The cold of Winter is losing it's grip on the land, weakening.   The earth stirs with a tender moan and begins to relent and release it's prisoners with a white bloom here . . . a yellow one there . . . birdsong becomes just that little bit sweeter . . .
 

 

 

Tender purple crocus with yellow hearts dance with the daffodils within the confines of the town green, their heads swaying to the music of the warming breeze . . . and there . . . a gamboling bumble bee prances too . . . an awkward dance which lifts it up from tender bloom to tender bloom, black hairy britches  dusted with golden fairy dust, which spreads from flower . . . to flower . . . to flower.  They are a harbinger of spring with their bumbling ways and jaunty britches . . .
 

 

(My friend Netta had one set of triplets born!)  

Lambs begin to arrive and to prance . . . rhubarb unfurls with tender green and deeply crinkled leaf . . . it's stems reddened and brilliant against the back drop of Winter leaving . . . there is a great and unmistakable beauty in the un-furling of Spring, in that tender wash of green . . . that imperceptible tinkle of white bell and song of bird.

I long  to be where the daffodils dance beneath the sun . . . along side of waters dappled with the glitter of a thousand silver wings.   That which inspired poets to pin words to paper. . .  words which,  a hundred or so years later, still cause  heart to leap in chest . . . and breath to sigh . . . 

Some days my heart is filled with a sadness that I have a hard time coping with, others I can manage it quite well . . . Today is one of those days, but it will pass hopefully as the day goes on. We are going to our friends Tina and Tony's for lunch.  They have just gotten back from their South African holiday so will have lots to share with us.  I have missed Tina a lot. It will be so nice to see her again. It was her birthday the other day so I have a little gift to bring to her.  I crocheted her a hand towel and some dish clothes.  I hope she likes them!

A thought to carry with you  . . .




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˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *"Water which is too pure has no fish."
~Ts'ai Ken T'an  •。★★ 。* 。 

 

Two recipes in The English Kitchen today  . . .  A Cabbage & Tomato Soup and some Cheddar & Chive Drop Biscuits.  Both are very good! 

Have a wonderful Wednesday!  Don't forget! 

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And I do too!