THE FIRST SIGNS OF SPRING

THE FIRST SIGNS OF SPRING

Some time ago (Though still in the last few days.) we entered spring time. I am not sure when, but I heard it announced on the radio.

I would and I will talk of the quickening of breath, the rebirth, but maybe, because I am getting old, the realisation that it is spring already, means that that brief moment when it was dark and cold, tells me that winter has passed already when I had hardly got used to it when it was here.

This sudden arrival means that I am even more aware how soon next autumn and winter will come. How quickly the years are spiralling out of control; when it seems only moments ago that I found out the world can be wonderful! The diminishing time left; It makes me ache a little.

After a late morning wandering; looking at bright spring flowers, budding rhubarb, blue skies and green shoots I went down again as I do, day after day, to Ardmore, with Dash the dog.

The announcement of the signs of spring seemed to have reached more than the wee group I was with in the morning as, when I reached the sea, the road was crammed, with cars on the verges; blocking the gates. The beach, if you can call it a beach, was full of dogs and children and yes, of course, there were clumps of daffodils swaying in the fresh wind.

It may sound saccharine, but I like saccharine! I like that I could take a photo of a blue primula next to a yellow one and in an infinitesimally small way make some gesture of support to victims of war. I liked the green shoots of flowers that almost glowed in the sun. I liked the pattern of the iris stalks beginning to poke out of the wet ground and the hedges leaves beginning to shoot and obscure the old rusted metal of the gateposts.

And, though I passed the sign with pictures of mauled sheep and warnings to keep our dogs on the lead, I do look forward to seeing new life tottering on unsteady legs and that growing sound of song birds that is now beginning to brighten the mornings. When I am up in the attic room, working away, I constantly see the rooks with their moss filled beaks flying to their new nests. When I peer out the kitchen window, I see them hopping awkwardly on the grass; gathering the dried out winters leaves.

The owl has taken to hooting and Dash has taken to barking in reply at night. Maybe the bats will be out soon? I look forward to the terns when they arrive; to the wild garlic coming into flower. To those days when we go to the formal gardens and see the magnolia flowers in the blue sky, the rhododendron in blossom. It will be so good when the swallows come back and dart across the sky.

I know I should celebrate the constant cycling of the seasons; the breath of warm air but still with a tinge of the hills in it. I know I should celebrate the new colours; the children becoming more and more grown up, the fact that I heard from my son way off in Kyrgyzstan telling me not to worry; that he is safe, and that thrill that after so long he has reached back to me. What a present on a sunny day on what seems the beginning of the year!

But I do, despite it all, have that slight fuzz of regret; a yearning that I could have joined in to the constant spontaneity that life is. I would like to leap into the day. I would like to stay up late and get up at the last moment to do something exciting; whether that be teasing the children, or dancing round Wendy or running with Dash the dog. It is easy to blame illness or the slickness of chemicals in my veins and I do, but just now, lying on the sofa bed, looking up at the blueness through the window, I remind myself that I have again reached the joy of the budding of the land and that, bystander or not, it is beautiful.

(Photos: Ardmore and Jeans Bothy 2022 Magnolia Ardern 2021)